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A. F. Nelson Publishing Co., 106-108 Pine Street, St. Louis, Mo. 



Issued Monthly. ^3.00 per \’’ear. July, 1890. 




1 





y 


9 



“The Dogs of War,” 

BY 

FRANK R. E. WOODWARD. 

THE ST. LOUIS ‘REPORTER RECRUIT.’ 

C HIS work, now in press, and shortly to be issued, is cer- 
tain to be the literary sensation of the year. It is a 
thrilling narrative of the personal experiences of the author, 
a reporter on one of the St. Louis daily papers, who enlisted 
in the United States Army, for the purpose of writing a 
special article on army life, and gives in detail an account 
of the cruelties inflicted, and hardships endured by the en- 
listed men in the army — giving individual cases. 

This exposure caused a general shaking up in Army Cir- 
cles, succeeding in mitigating the condition of the recruits 
to a considerable extent, and causing the calling of a court 
martial by the Secretary of War, the finding of which is also 
included in the work. 

We append the following editorial comment on the article 
which appeared in one of the prominent St. Louis papers ; 

“ It appears as though the “ Dogs of War ’’ 
were the recruits who are so brutally treated 
by the Jefferson Barracks sergeants.^’ 

— Post- Dispatch Editorial. 

Handsomely printed in extra large t3"pe with illustrations, 
and containing a frontispiece, of the author. 


BOUIS^D IN PAPER 25 GENTS. 

BOUND IN CLOTH $1.00. 


For sale by all Newsdealers, or sent post-paid, on receipt 
of price by 

A. F. Nelson Publishing Company, 

ST. LOUIS, MO. 






A Private Matter; 


OR, 

AN ADVENTURER’S NARRATIVE. 


BY 

/ 

LOUIS PAUL KIRBY, 

'If 

Author of “Agnes: a Story of the Streets;” “ Dreams of Youth; ” 
“The Confessions of Clarence Gale;” Etc. 

If.0 


ILLUSTBATED, 



ST. LOUIS, MO.- 
A. F. Nelson Publishing Company, 
1890. 








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PREFACE. 


My realistic novel, Agnes : a Story of the 
Streets,” has been severely criticised by the mon- 
itors of the press, and I am very nearly convinced 
that I made a grave mistake in publishing the 
book, as my readers, ignoring the philosophy of 
the story, devoured it for its erotic features. 
Yes, I am guilty of a great crime, and the whole 
of frail humanity are my victims. I regret hav- 
ing written the story — though it has proven suc- 
cessful — not because of the criticisms of the press, 
but because of the pain and mortification it has 
caused my family and friends. Then, too, 
the public is weary of the torrid imaginings of 
realistic writers. This is shown in the popu- 
larity of the tales of adventure, and the romantic 
novels of the better class of writers. Their stor- 
ies are very rarely true to life, as everything that 
treats of life partakes of a certain element— though 
not necessarily a gross element — of realism, but 
the reading public sees enough of the base side 
of life in every day intercourse with men, and 


viii 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


looks to literature for a means of soaring above 
terrestrial matters into the pure realms of the 
ideal. Yet all authors cannot confine themselves 
to chaste imagery. It is impossible to write truth- 
fully about men and women without referring, 
however incidentally or sparingly, to animal pas- 
sion for the reason that love is distinctly animal. 
No story is interesting without love, and love 
necessarily suggests a desire to mate, and mat- 
ing is odoriferously terrestrial. Writers of lofty 
romances may eschew details, but when they refer 
to love they become realistic, though not offen- 
sively so. Let an aspiring writer prepare a nov- 
el without love or references to the distinction 
between sexes and then see how many readers 
he will have ! 

There is an odor of clay about everything that 
concerns humanity. Study men and you will find 
the thoughts ever uppermost in their minds is the 
topic handled by realistic writers — lust ! Women, 
with more delicate senses, are apt to be reserved 
and less easily studied. But men and women 
are of the same vile clay, actuated by the same 
impulses and possessed of the same weaknesses. 
Where a man would blazon forth his depravity 
and the nature of his low, vicious thoughts, a 
woman remains silent ; but of the two, a woman 
is often the more depraved, as men in their hoist- 


PEEFACE. 


IX 


erous protestations of lasciviousness, are frequent- 
ly more virgin in body than in mind, for this 
reason : let a woman avow loose morals and she 
is eagerly sought after, to appease the passion of 
men, hut a man, no matter how willing he is to 
he seduced, is not sought after hy erring damsels. 
He must seek them himself. 

Study a man and you will soon penetrate his 
weaknesses. You can never, never fail to find a 
flaw, even in your ideals. Some men can he read 
at a glance, others are deeper, more impenetrable. 
But not one, possessed of the full powers of his 
sex, is beyond weaknesses of the flesh. Alack, 
I am not a pessimist, because I have given up 
the disgusting study of men. Life is bright — if 
you ignore its darkness — and my advice is to en- 
joy all the pleasures that are to be found here, 
as there is no certainty for the future. Pri- 
vate Matter ” is not realistic, but a tale of action, 
and with this assurance, I leave you. 


L. P. K. 



A Private Matter. 


CHAPTEK I. 

The gray dawn of a winter’s snn was just 
breaking over New Orleans, as the keeper of a 
cheap lodging house, in a remote quarter of the 
city, was ascending the narrow stairway leading 
to the garret, where inferior guests were lodged. 
After pausing at the landing to recover his 
breath, he approached a small door, facing 
the head of the stairway, and listened attentively 
for a few minutes, then hearing no sounds from 
within, rattled the door to attract the attention 
of the occupant of the apartment. There was no 
answer. 

Strange,” he muttered, passing his hand in a 
troubled manner across his forehead, ^^he was in 
in his room all day yesterday, and does not 
respond to my knock to-day. Something must 
be wrong.” 

Calling to an attendant, he sent him for an axe ; 
then carefully prying open the door he entered 
the chamber of his too reclusive guest. The 
room was bare and cheerless. Its furniture was 
scant and of the meanest description, and the 


12 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


unwashed windows, with other evidences of 
untidiness, "bespoke the presence of a slovenly 
servant. 

It was some time before the host became 
accustomed to the gloom, greatly augmented by 
the twilight of early morning ; but after a short 
interval, during which he stood near the door- 
way, apparently half dazed by evil forebodings, 
he peered keenly about the apartment, and, by 
a rapid survey, comprehended the situation 
thoroughly. 

“ Zounds,” he exclaimed, “ I was always un- 
fortunate ! Why did he come here to die ?” 

Then in a milder tone, he turned to his negro 
attendant and added: “Off, Saul, and bring a 
priest to see the poor man. At least, his soul 
may be saved.” 

As the servant hurried off in search of the ec- 
clesiastic, the landlord again took a survey of the 
apartment ; this time more slowly and examining 
each minute detail. 

The lodger was lying upon a small cot in a 
corner of the room, and his pallid face and nerve- 
less jaws plainly indicated the presence of death. 
His face was upturned and his eyes, wide open 
and glazed in death, stared at the blackened 
rafters overhead. One hand grasped the coverlet, 
while the other, pressed close to his breast. 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


13 


clutched a small gold medal, which sparkled 
brightly amidst the surrounding dinginess. 

A thin gray beard, an emaciated frame and a 
suit of shabby black clothing marked the dead 
man’s individuality. His face bore no expres- 
sion, though his features, delicate, large and regu- 
lar, indicated education and refinement, and sug- 
gested a bright, hopeful past. 

The host was called from his contemplation of 
the dead man by a recollection of his pecuniary 
interest in the estate of his inanimate guest. He 
immediately proceeded to examine into his re- 
sources. A few articles of soiled linen were scat- 
tered about the room, and a small hair trunk, 
with the lid open and g. portion of the contents 
protruding, filled one of the corners. The eager 
fingers of the landlord soon overhauled the con- 
tents of the trunk, and the honest fellow was dis- 
appointed to find so little. Several small articles : 
relics, valuable and interesting only to their or- 
iginal possessor, some worn and worthless cloth- 
ing and a bulky manuscript filled the trunk. The 
package containing the manuscript, which proved 
to be these, the Confessions of an Adventurer, 
was labeled thus : 

‘‘Such is Life — My Life, 


OLIVER BENJAMIN.” 


CHAPTEE II. 


This recital would he more pleasant to me were 
I to ignore the stormy days of my young man- 
hood, when contending passions, hy irresistahle im- 
pulses, urged me hy turns to good and evil actions. 
A review of my happy childhood, or cheerful, as- 
piring youth, would make me more tranquil and 
resigned, hut no one cares for the monotonous 
details of the hoyhood days of even great men. 
It is action — the tumult and excitement of life, 
which interests and inspires. 

Well, as such is the case, follow my narrative, 
for I have had my share of experiences. Super- 
flous words are wearying. Details are tiresome 
in a tale of action, therefore, I will plunge into 
the midst of my narrative. 

Toward the close of the year 182 — , the regi- 
ment, in which I was then a second lieutenant, 
received orders to repair to Vera Cruz, there to 
make its winter headquarters and suppress all 
uprisings of the turbulent natives of that local- 
ity. The chaos, resulting from the elevation of 
Don Augustin Iturhide to the supreme power of 
government, had not yet subsided, and many of the 
people declined to recognize the plehian monarch’s 
authority — some taking up arms to oppose it. 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


15 


I had gone to Mexico, like many others, with 
vague dreams of early distinction. I had pictured 
myself a general before the first few months had 
passed, and reveled in dreams of martial glory, 
and the honors heaped upon the head of a young 
hero by a grateful people. They continued to be 
dreams, as a year had now passed and longed 
for promotion had not yet been made, and I was 
serving under the colors of an upstart emperor, 
instead of the fiag of a glorious republic. I was 
now ordered to Vera Cruz, there, in all proba- 
bility to pass another year as an unnoticed se- 
cond lieutenant. Never, in all my life, did the 
meaning of the old Spanish proverb, all is not 
gold that glitters,” appear to me so vividly as 
at that moment. 

I had left a comfortable home in Virginia, only 
to learn, after undergoing a year’s experience of 
the hardships of military service in Mexico, a 
wholesome, though unpalatable truth. 

It was after several days hard marching that 
we came in sight of the sea coast. The sun was 
just sinking behind the range of western hills, 
gilding the earth with its mellow glow ; and the 
white walls and spires of Vera Cruz lay before 
us, glittering in the rays of the setting sun. I 
had never witnessed a scene more beautiful. It 
may have been the exuberant fancy of youth, 


16 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


but at tbe time I fully believed that a distant 
view of the city rivaled any mortal conception of 
the beauty of Paradise. 

No one, save I, seemed impressed by the in- 
. spiring scene, though all rejoiced at the near 
approach to rest and shelter. Even the weary 
animals we bestrode manifested an eagerness to 
proceed, which, by the way, they had displayed 
at no other time during the day. 

I was riding alone as we neared the city — my 
fellow officers looking upon me as a mercenary, 
though many of them were Spaniards, proudly 
holding aloof from me — when a horseman reined 
beside me and startled me from a reverie, into 
which I had fallen, by suddenly exclaiming : 

“ Cheer up, Benjamin, we are nearing a warm 
supper and the home of my ancestors. I was 
born there,-’ pointing toward the city. 

I had turned at the first word, and confronted 
a tall, slender young man, in a cavalry officer’s 
uniform, similar to the one I wore, save that his 
epaulettes indicated that he ranked as a cap- 
tain. He would have been facially handsome had 
it not been for a cynical curl of his thin upper lip, 
which gave his countenance a haughty, repellant 
expression, which seemed half sinister at times. 

“Well, I rejoice to hear that, Vermodi,” I re- 
plied, glad that there was some one who did not 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


17 


disdain to talk to me, ‘‘for I fear that we would 
know as few here as in the capitol.” 

“Don’t trouble yourself on that score,” he re- 
plied, confidently, “as I know every family of 
note in the city.” 

“I suppose you are overjoyed to again be 
among your people ? ” 

“ No, far from that,” was the unexpected re- 
sponse, “I almost fear to enter the place. All 
my people were staunch royalists, and it will 
pain those still living to see me in the usurper’s 
uniform. Yes,” he continued refiectively, “ we 
were all Bourbonists — it is part of our nature to 
be so, and I — why, I am no exception, truly.” 

His voice had assumed a confidential modula- 
tion and he watched me closely, with his keen, 
dark eyes, noting the effect of his words upon 
me as he spoke. Seeing the expression of uncon- 
cealed surprise and horror on my face, he at- 
tempted to correct himself. 

“I mean that I was — that is, I am, or should 
be, as it were, and am not. Benjamin, I know 
you are a man of honor. Listen ! Why should 
I fear to tell you all?” 

“Captain Yermodi,” I interrupted, “for that 
reason, I decline to become your confidant. What 
you have incautiously told me I shall consider 
unspoken and strive to forget. Any further 

* 2 


18 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


communication, of a treasonable nature, that you 
may insist upon making, will most certainly be 
placed in the hands of my superiors. Remem- 
ber, sir, we are officers of the Imperial army, and 
after your oath, I am shocked to hear such a 
declaration from you.” 

I might have been unnecessarily harsh, but the 
recollection of' the recent execution of a young 
officer, for whom a spy — under the guise of a re- 
publican conspirator — had laid a trap, was fresh 
in my memory. 

‘‘Nobly spoken, friend Benjamin,” cried Yer- 
modi, with an affectation of heartiness in the tone 
of his voice which belied the malignant gleam in 
his dark eyes, “I was only jesting. Do not take 
my idle words seriously. By the way,” he add- 
ed, looking me in the face, after a short pause, 
with a frank smile which greatly puzzled me, “I 
expect you to accompany me, soon after we be- 
come settled in Vera Cruz, to my aunt’s residence, 
where you will meet many pleasant people. Some 
are a little cranky regarding political matters, 
but they all come from good stock and my aunt’s 
receptions are stately affairs ; only the best people 
attend them ; but for all that, I think you will 
enjoy an experience of the kind, for you Ameri- 
cans consider everything an experience if it is 
not an investment. But, I will see you again 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


19 


after we are ensconced in onr new quarters.” 

Turning Ms horse, with a quick, violent motion, 
he galloped back to his command. I followed 
him with my eyes as he proudly rode away, 
feeling painfully conscious of having lost a friend 
— one of the few I could boast of — and made 
an enemy. 


CHAPTER III. 


The bustle attending our arrival having sub- 
sided, I settled down in my comfortable quarters 
at the Imperial inn, hoping to gain some rest 
after the fatigue of our long journey. There was 
a Sre burning on the hearth, although the day 
was quite warm, to expel the mustiness from 
the room, it not having been occupied for some 
time previous. The thick walls of the room, 
built of rough stone, were concealed behind gaily 
colored cotton hangings, and the immense bed, 
standing near the center of the floor, was cur- 
tained with faded pieces of the same material. 

As the room was better furnished than the 
average apartment found in Mexican inns, at that 
period, and was far more inviting than the officers’ 
quarters at the barracks, I regarded it with com- 
placency, and was wondering when I was to be 
provided with a repast, when the door was uncere- 
moniously thrown open and a bright looking 
Mexican girl tripped across the threshold, bear- 
ing a tray, with several steaming dishes as its 
burden. This she laid upon a small table before 
me, and the savory odor, reaching my nostrils, 
did not delay me from doing full justice to the 
repast. The girl stood , beside me as, with the 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


21 


keen appetite of a hungry trooper, I voraciously 
devoured the food, and seemed greatly amused 
by my demonstrative hunger. Having assured 
myself that the last morsel had disappeared, I 
turned the beaming countenance of a satisfied 
epicure upon the fair waitress. 

“What is your name, pretty one?” I asked, 
with a most parental smile — the benign expres- 
sion not disappearing even when the lass made 
a grimace and briefiy replied, as she piled the 
dishes on the tray, with a deafening clatter : 

“ Nama.” 

“Do you live here, Nama?” I enquired, not 
having anything else to ask her. 

“ Yes, senor.” 

“Is the host your father?” 

“No, senor, he is my uncle.” 

Her innocent frankness and fascinating sim- 
plicity were too much for my warm blood, and 
as she brought my meals regularly, a week had 
not passed ere I was in a fair way of losing my 
heart. At times, when my advances became too 
bold, she would give me a coquettish box on the 
ear and run laughing from the room. 

This flirtation, in the light of later experi- 
ences, seemed very foolish, but as Kama was 
the only woman I knew in Vera Cruz during the 
first few weeks of my stay there, it was pleasant 


22 


A PBIVATK MATTER. 


to have a frolic with her, in the evenings, after 
going through a long day of drills and inspections. 

One morning, I awoke earlier than was my 
usual habit — having retired early the previous 
evening to overcome a fit of ennui — and was 
lying irresolute as to whether I should take 
another nap, or arise, when I heard a female 
voice singing beneath my window. The tune was 
melodious and the voice was fresh and sweet. 

“The chevalier from o’er the waters 
Comes to woo our Spanish daughters ; 

Will he change their glee to sorrow — 

Will he depart with the morrow?” 

Feeling anxious to know the songstress, as the 
serenade was obviously meant for me, as my 
vanity suggested, I approached the lattice and 
peered out. The window opened upon a large 
vegetable garden adjoining the tavern, in which 
the singer was standing. The lattice prevented 
me from obtaining a view of the part of the 
garden directly beneath my window, so I opened 
the casement; then, protruding my inquisitive 
head, I looked down. 

The noise of the opening casement disturbed 
the songstress and the song died on her lips. 

It was Nama singing. She was seated upon a 
long, wooden bench, assisting an old woman, 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


23 


probably a servant, in preparing some vegetables 
for cooking and, save by her sudden silence, 
seemed not to have detected my presence. The 
old woman, unconscious of my appearance over 
head, doubtless due to impaired hearing, for I 
made noise enough, continued to remonstrate 
against the laziness of her companion. 

I coughed slightly, to attract Nama’s atten- 
tion, but she bent her head over her task — 
very evidently deeply engrossed — and mutely 
declined to notice me. Tiring of my unsuccess- 
ful efforts to gain some token of recognition from 
her, I took a small silver coin from my pocket 
and tossed it down, hoping that it would fall in 
her lap. It landed, instead, in the large basin, 
used by the old woman, with a ringing, metallic 
sound, that could have penetrated a sepulchre, 
judging from the effect upon my distended organs 
of sound and the immediate result in the gar- 
den. When I saw where the coin had fallen, I 
hastily withdrew my head out of sight. An 
oppressive silence ensued, and when I again 
looked out the window, the garden was empty. 
Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air, 
I carelessly wondered what would be the out- 
come of my adventure. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Dressing myself with, great care, I awaited the 
arrival of breakfast; expecting that Nama would 
be the waitress, as usual, and determined to 
have a serious talk with the lass. The meal was 
unduly delayed and I could hear the smothered 
rumble of voices below in the hallway, but did 
not care to investigate the cause of the confabu- 
lation, nor the detention of my breakfast, as I 
was reflecting upon the step I imagined I was 
about to take. 

Finally, after fully an hour’s waiting, and the 
time for my appearance at the barracks was 
nearing, the door was slowly pushed open, 
after a discreet knock, and the old woman I had 
seen in the garden hobbled in, bringing the 
delayed breakfast. Placing it on the table, she 
turned and was on the point of silently leaving 
the room, when I detained her by the query : 

“Where is Naina?” 

“ Ask her uncle,” answered the old woman, 
harshly. 

“ Why should I ask Senor Tarf a question that 
you could easily answer?” 

The old woman’s insolent look irritated me 
more than her words, and it was with difficulty 


A PKIYATE MATTER. 


that I restrained my self from catechising her for 
her had manners. 

“You Americans have strange ideas,” was the 
reply, as she scanned me closely, “you strive to 
wrong every^maid you meet — we Mexicans” — this 
proudly — “woo with purer intent and love, though 
blindly, but one, to an indefinite extent.” 

The Spanish of this answer, in the old woman’s 
limited vocabulary, was not so poetic, though it 
conveyed the same meaning. Hoping to learn 
the cause of her suspicious demeanor, I took 
exception to her insinuation and returned : 

“I am not aware of the ‘American’ weakness 
having been exemplified in my conduct toward 
Kama — pray explain yourself.” 

“ Your attentions go further in Mexico than 
you seem to believe. I can’t say that your inten- 
tions are evil, but one can never tell — you come 
of a treacherous race.” 

“You are a strange people,” I exclaimed, in- 
dignant that one of a race of assassins and faith- 
less friends should apply such a false imputa- 
tion to my fellow countrymen, yet determined to 
restrain my wrath, both on account of the age 
of the woman and because I had an object in 
view, “if you imagine I have shown Nama other 
than the most commonplace attentions ? How- 
ever, it matters little. If you guard your maid- 


26 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


ens with such jealous care, why send them to 
wait upon every chance guest at your tavern? 
But I understand your motives.” 

motive!” exclaimed the old woman, with 
some surprise ; then regaining her composure, 
she assumed an injured air, and refused to con- 
tinue the conversation by abruptly leaving the 
room. 

They are scheming to trick me into marry- 
ing Nama,” I thought; ‘‘possibly, they are at- 
tracted by my epaulettes, or there may be some- 
thing deeper and. darker behind it all. I must 
be certain, lest I make a false step.” 

The niece of a tavern keeper for a wife ? Why 
not? I was but the offspring of a common citi- 
zen — ordinary planter. True, he was wealthy 
and knew the names of a dozen, or so, of his 
ancestors, who had, in turn, been wealthy, some- 
times honored and always respected, if not for 
personal achievements, at least for their lands 
and chattels and their stability of character. 
But it was equally true that I was a wanderer, 
an alien, an adventurer — a man without love of 
country or filial affection. I had been reared 
without a mother’s love and guidance and in- 
structed under the stern eyes of a martinet, my 
father. I could not love him after I had 
looked into his cold, soulless gray eyes and real- 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


27 


ized the selfishness, lovelessness of his nature. 
How could alfection, outgrowth of a fertile soil, 
rear itself from the dry sands of desert? My 
father’s eyes chilled me when I looked into their 
icy depths. In my imagination, I thought I could 
penetrate behind those cold gray eyes and detect 
the false workings of his deceitful mind. Could 
I find love and sympathy in the green eyes of a 
mad-dog? Does the meadow blossom bless the 
tread that crushes it to the earth, from the damp- 
ness and darkness of which it had sprung to im- 
bibe the brightness and sunshine of day. No, I 
detested, I loathed — what say I? Loathed ? Yes, 
I loathed the sight of him who quelled the gen- 
erous impulses of my bouyant boyhood, who 
robbed my youth of its brightest hours, and made 
my heart sick with a burden of worldly philos- 
ophy, and my mind, rabidly imaginative by his 
very effort to destroy that finer sense, which 
makes poets miserable, and poor men drunkards. 
I had lost my love of country — else why should 
I leave it with none of the inducements which 
cause the people of foreign lands to flock to the 
grand republic of the new world — and I had be- 
come ambitious, a mercenary soldier seeking 
fame, fortune and glory at any sacrifice of con- 
science, life or my immortal soul. I cared little 
though I won a harlot ! Yet hold, the suspicion 


28 


A PEI V ATE MATTEE. 


cast upon Nama’s virtue deterred me from the 
union I had determined upon. 

The waitress, as a chaste, pure maid, I would 
have made my wife ; but was she pure and chaste? 
The doubt, once aroused, became fixed in my 
mind, and I was soon almost confident of JSTama’s 
fraility. Ah, what an awful mistake I made. 

What have I written ? Something incoherent, 
vague — mad I fear. I must continue my narra- 
tive, since I am so deficient in philosophy and 
my digressions are so irritating. Pity a verbose 
old man and overlook those parts that you have 
no desire to read. If I were only twenty years 
younger, I could tell the story better, but now, 
now I can make no pretense of writing well-bal- 
anced dialogue, nor a narrative full of the fire 
and vim of youth. In a plain narrative, such as 
I am capable of, I will make no errors, for my 
memory is good, and do moral injury to no one. 

As I have loquaciously stated, being an Ameri- 
can, I had no false ideas of superiority in rank, 
and no objection to the match on that score, 
but I resolved to delay the matter until I had 
ascertained the cause of the anxiety to precipi- 
tate the nuptials of a couple having made no 
formal matrimonial negotiations and, in fact, hav- 
ing scarely thought of the matter. While I was 
thus ruminating, a thundering rap at the door was 


A PEI Y ATE MATTEE. 


29 


followed by the entrance of Senor Tarf, who seat- 
ed himself with a mysterious air of importance, 
and after a long silence, during which I stared 
haughtily at him, blandly remarked : 

I think you desire to see me, senor.’’ 

You are mistaken,” I replied, with emphasis, 
‘‘I do not desire to see you.” 

^‘Well, since your modesty — a commendable 
quality, I assure you — prevents you from open- 
ing the discussion, I will do so,” said the host, 
rubbing his hands together and smiling affection- 
ately. I desire to learn your intentions towards 
Nama. Oh, don’t protest ! I am sure that your 
diffidence, your manly diffidence has kept your 
tongue tied and I — ” 

You surprise, amaze me,” I exclaimed, waving 
my hand, half distractedly in the air, and causing 
Senor Tarf some uneasiness by the action. What 
do you mean? explain yourself, or I shall think 
myself in a mad house.” 

Dame Isabella told me that you requested 
to speak to me about Nama. The little girl her- 
self confesses that you have promised to wed 
her more than once. You certainly do not deny 
this ? ” 

No, I could not! I remembered that I had 

playfully, jestinglj^, said to Nama that I was 

going to make her my wife, some day. I said 


30 


A PRIVATE MATTEE. 


many other foolish things, which I now regretted. 
She blushed — I understand it all now — and 
believed me sincere in all I said. Poor child, 
she did not imagine that I was amusing myself 
with her and, perhaps, had earnestly treasured 
all the silly words I had uttered. The feeling 
of affection for the girl, which was maturing in 
my heart, was chilled — I did not feel a sad 
sympathy for her, at the time, but felt vexed 
and angered that her childishness should have 
caused me such annoyance. 

Oh ! what a fool I have been,’’ I thought, 
and what persistent, irritating people these 
Mexicans are.” 

Senor,” I said aloud, with slow emphasis, 
turning a flushed, angry face toward Senor Tarf, 
who, having retreated to the door, was regarding 
me with unconcealed amazement, I did not send 
for you and can see no excuse for this intrusion. 
Should I ever feel inclined to wed your niece, I 
will lose no time in acquainting you with the 
fact and asking your consent unsolicited.” 

As I spoke, Senor Tarf s face became very red, 
whether from rage or mortification I do not know, 
and with an unceremonious bow, he passed out 
the door. 


CHAPTER V. 


Again niglit had come, and I was sitting in 
my room, striving to read by the light of a 
smoky tallow candle. A timid rap on the door 
arrested my attention. 

“Come in,” I called out. 

The door was softly opened and Kama entered, 
quickly closing it after her. 

“Why, Nama,” I exclaimed, “what brought 
you here?” 

“ Hush,” she whispered, agitatedly, placing a 
finger to her lips. 

How pretty she looked ! Her round, girlish 
face was very pale and wore a serious expres- 
sion. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement 
and her dark hair hung in disorder about her 
shoulders. She wore a plain, blue cotton gown, 
which fitted her well rounded form neatly. 

After listening attentively for a few moments, 
she seemed assured that her absence had not 
been detected. 

“You must not tell on me,” she said, in a 
frightened tone. “ They told me not to come up 
here, but I thought that I would see you any 
way.” 

I was annoyed by the intrusion, after what 


32 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


had occurred, but adapting myself to the circum- 
stances, we were soon engaged in an earnest, 
though contraband conversation. 

How passionate she was. She threw her arms 
around my neck, and forced me to caress her. 
Yes, she told me, all unbidden, that she loved 
me and I, carried away by the heat engendered 
by the violence of her passion, embraced her, 
kissed her, made vehement pledges of my undy- 
ing affection. How cruel, how base I was. I 
should have been stronger, I should have spoken 
to her harshly and stifled the love she felt for me. 

As she threw herself into my willing arms 
and kissed me rapturously again and again, she 
cried : 

‘‘You will never, never love another, Carlos?” 

“Never, as long as I live,” I replied, unhesi- 
tatingly, insincerely. 

“ Then I am happy, very happy.” 

Her feverish cheeks burned with desire, and 
her eyes flashed with the intense yearning that 
seemed consuming her. I touched her and she 
trembled with delight. Clinging to my breast, 
with her hot cheeks pressed close to mine, mutely 
beseeching me to appease the passion which, 
God knows, I did not instil, she fought my few 
wavering scruples and Anally mutual desire con- 
quered. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


33 


Alas, where was the proud, chaste chivalry of 
my youth? Why was I carried away? Nama, 
KTama, it was not my fault that you were wronged 
— nor was it thy fault, poor girl, for you should 
not he blamed for loving more strongly and fer- 
vently than other women. Intense love, like 
intense ambition, leads but to ruin. 





CHAPTER VI. 


I was steadying Nama on a chair as she en- 
deavored to fasten the curtain to the bed, it hav- 
ing been torn down during our frolic, when she 
paused suddenly and her flushed, laughing face, 
again turned deathly pale and the serious look 
returned. 

‘‘ Some one is calling me,” she whispered, as 
a voice on the stairway called her name. ‘‘ I 
must leave you now.” 

Clasping her in my arms and imprinting a kiss 
upon her blushing cheek, I murmured : 

‘‘ To-morrow night, in the garden.” 

After a momentary hesitation, in which duty 
and passion struggled for the mastery, she tossed 
her head and, with a reckless laugh, answered : 

Yes.” 

Then, slipping from my embrace, she crept nois- 
lessly to the door, and upon peeping through a 
crevice to see that the way was clear, started 
back with a cry of dismay, the crimson blushes 
dying her face and neck. 

Cursing my ill-luck, I expected to meet the re- 
proachful gaze of an outraged uncle, and had half 
begun to suspect that Nama was party to an 
intrigue to force me into a marriage, when after 


36 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


a momentary pause, the door opened and Philip 
Vermodi entered. As he passed through the door- 
way, Nama slipped out, I was relieved to find 
that my visitor was not her indignant relative, 
hut not gratified to see the proud captain at that 
moment. 

‘‘ Well, never mind,” — his sarcastic lips curled 
as he spoke — “I admit that she is pretty. If 
she were less florid, I swear she would he beau- 
tiful,” and he laughed as though his jest could 
he appreciated hy me. 

I was hoth angry and confused, and mumbled 
a few meaningless words, which Vermodi took no 
notice of as he continued : 

“ Hurry yourself, Benjamin, there is no time to 
lose ; we are already late for the reception.” 

I had forgotten all about the reception and 
protested that I was in no condition to attend, 
hut Vermodi would listen to no excuses. He had 
promised to introduce me to his friends and 
meant to do so. Hastily adjusting my disar- 
ranged garments, I prepared to accompany my 
guide. As we left the house, Vermodi remarked. 

“ Benjamin, whatever you see, to-night, you are 
hound, as- a man of honor, never to disclose.” 

“If you intend to take me to a treasonable 
gathering,” I answered, stopping suddenly, “ I must 
decline to accompany you. If I am not careful. 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


37 


Vermodi, I may bold a levee behind the barracks, 
at sunrise some morning, which would not be at 
all to my liking.’’ 

Your suspicions are all the more painful that 
they are unjust,” he replied, with an air of 
injured pride. I then regretted having expressed 
my suspicions and a silence ensued, which re- 
mained unbroken until we reached the entrance 
to the park surrounding a large, old-fashioned 
mansion, in a quiet part of the city. 

During the walk from the tavern, I asked my- 
self if Captain Vermodi were really my friend, 
that he sought my company after the manner 
in which I had spoken to him on the day of 
our arrival in Vera Cruz, or an enemy whose 
blow, when dealt, would prove all the more 
blighting that it was deferred and the enemy 
unknown until too late. I began to feel some- 
what uneasy, but after abandoning scruples and 
succumbing to one temptation, I had not strength 
of character sufficient to guard against a second 
mis-step. Before we arrived at the entrance to 
the park, I had half determined to point the con- 
spiracy, of which I was fully assured. I might 
have broken the silence, but our arrival pre- 
vented me from taking a step that might have 
altered my whole future. 

Yet all these opportunities are placed in our 


38 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


paths to be neglected and regretted, and remem- 
bered only to make our burdens heavier, if our 
chosen paths lead not to success. But the finger 
of destiny marks out our paths in life; some 
men are called upon to do great things, some 
men have joy, others woe, but no man could 
accomplish more than he does, nor be better, or 
worse, for fate rules circumstances, and circum- 
stances control men. 

As we paused at the entrance gate- way, Ver- 
modi heaved a sigh of relief and said: 

Here we are ! You can now throw aside the 
garb of a recluse and enter society.” 

The gate did not stand open, as might be 
expected on the evening of a reception, nor was 
there a light exposed. *A closed carriage drove 
up as we stood before the gate and passed 
through without parley, the porter being on the 
alert. Following the vehicle through the gate- 
way, which was immediately closed after us, we 
found ourselves in the park. The park was en- 
closed by a high brick and stone wall, but as 
it was dark, save where I could see the lights 
from the mansion glimmering through the foliage 
of the trees, I could see nothing distinctly. Ver- 
modi must have been familiar with the place, as 
he appeared quite at home in the park. 

As we moved away from the gate, along the 


A PEIVATE MATTEE. 


39 


graveled driveway, I heard some one rap noisily 
and demand admittance. The porter seemed in- 
disposed to admit the newcomer, who seemed to 
be afoot, but after passing him through a rigid 
cross examination, the ponderous bolt was drawn 
aside and the pedaneous guest entered. This 
confirmed my suspicions and aroused my curi- 
osity. What sort of a place had we entered ? 
Was it a place of amusement into which Yer- 
modi had lead me ? Had he taken me out on a 
frolic and stole past the gate-keeper? I knew 
too well that these internal questions were not 
seriously put and that I was endeavoring to de- 
ceive myself. I asked Yermodi no questions and 
after a brisk walk, arrived at a broad fiight of 
stone steps leading to the door, which stood open 
and the light, streaming out, spread a welcome 
glare over the surrounding trees. Passing through 
the hall, we were ushered into a brilliantly light- 
ed salon, where the guests were assembled. 

As our names were announced, many faces were 
turned in recognition toward Yermodi and I de- 
tected several puzzled, questioning glances, di- 
rected toward me. 

The gaudy costumes and brilliant lights dazed 
me. For a moment I was unable to speak, then 
realizing my position, I courteously greeted a 
gentleman Yermodi was introducing to me. I 


40 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


was ashamed of my momentary embarassment, 
but it is to be excused, when my year’s recluse 
is remembered. 

I bad before seen brighter and more dazzling 
scenes, but had never been similarly affected. 

There were many ladies present, and I wonder- 
ed why Yermodi had not presented me to some 
of them, or at least to the hostess. While leisurely 
strolling through the salon, I noticed that the 
costumes, which seemed so gorgeous on entering, 
were well worn, and some seemed almost thread- 
bare. The faces of many of the guests were worn 
and anxious, though an air of warmth and gaiety 
was affected which was oppressive, even painful 
to me. 

“You will like them when you know them 
better,” remarked Yermodi, uneasily, not under- 
standing the interest I manifested. 

“ I think I shall,” I returned, staring blankly 
at the unprepossessing assemblage, “but tell me, 
Yermodi, who is that beautiful girl across the 
salon — the one clad in black ? ” 

Grlancing in the direction I indicated, he hesi- 
tated a moment, then replied: 

“ That is my sister ; come, let me introduce you 
to her.” 

Crossing the floor, I had the pleasure of an in- 
troduction to the most beautiful woman I ever 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


41 


met, before or since that evening. 

Mortal pen, with the combined vocabularies of 
all languages — much less my pointless pencil — 
could not describe her many charms and do them 
justice. Take my description, then, and multi- 
ply it with not less than one-thousand, and you 
can draw something near a correct conclusion as 
to her beauty. 

Arising to meet me, her stately form was dis- 
played in its elegant perfection. She was not 
one of the pale, dough-faced, ‘‘ aristocratic ” 
creatures, who pose as society leaders, but was 
strong and full of the inexplicable charm of 
health and vivacious spirits. Her face was, it is 
true, devoid of color, but the skin was soft, white 
and smooth, while the masses of dark hair, 
combed back from her forehead, fell in glossy 
ringlets about her shoulders, gleaming in the 
yellow rays of the waxen tapers in the chan- 
deliers. She was, indeed, beautiful, though her 
womanly charms were offset by cold, gray eyes, 
and firm, regular features, which gave her an 
expression not unlike her brother’s. 

Involuntarily I compared her to my little friend 
at the inn, coming to the mental conclusion that 
such a comparison was next to sacrilege. 

After going through the formalities of an in- 
troduction, I was about to seat myself beside 


42 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


Senorita Vermodi, when, glancing anxiously to- 
ward an elderly lady seated near us. Captain 
Vermodi suddenly exclaimed: 

But a thousand pardons — ” 

He was interrupted by Madona, who, with more 
tact than her brother, presented me ceremoniously 
to the old lady, whom she addressed as Dona 
Burguana. The captain’s relief was evident — 
for the old lady had been eyeing me in an un- 
friendly and suspicious manner — and he remark- 
ed by way of appeasing the old lady, I suppose, 
for she had greeted me coldly : 

“ He is an American gentleman of high connec- 
tions and in sympathy with the right cause.” 

I made no effort to deny the allegation, because 
a denial would have created the impression that 
1 favored the wrong cause — whatever it was — 
which my vanity would not let me endure, al- 
though I fully understood his meaning ; but Dona 
Burguana gave me no opportunity to refute the 
assertion, even had I intended doing so. 

Her expression immediately changed, and she 
launched forth into an elaborate disquisition on 
the advantages of the former colonial government 
under Spain. Having seated myself, I listened 
to Dona Burguana with patience, if not with 
resignation, and as her adjectives diminished in 
fluency and. became more meaningless, I antici- 


A PEI V ATE MATTER. 


48 


pated, with keen pleasure, her speedy silence, 
but met with disappointment. She was flagging 
for want of breath only, as her reservoir of loy- 
alty and — ideas was inexhaustible. Persons born 
in very high stations in life greatly resemble 
the humblest classes of people in their rugged 
indifference to conventionalities and lack of affec- 
tation. It is only the people in less assured 
social positions, or the recently elevated, who 
are always guarded in their deportment and 
studiously observe the rules of etiquette and 
jealously guard the dignity of their stations in 
life. Unconsciously, Dona Burguana continued, 
with the garrulity of a market woman : 

‘‘Yes, the martyred king — or nearly so — the 
glorious Ferdinand, will claim his rights some 
day and the rebellious clowns will then repent 
having taken up arms against their lawful sov- 
ereign and murdered his representatives in Mex- 
ico ; I will see the day when this will come to 
pass ; you will have an opportunity to draw 
your sword, to serve gloriously for him from whom 
a contemptuous kick should be deemed an honor 
by all loyal subjects. The world is weary of 
Frenchmen and traitors. Our king of Spain, of 
Mexico and of South America is to have his 
own. See, all these noble gentlemen are bound,, 
body and soul, to this grand enterprise ; they 


44 


A PEI V ATE MATTEE. 


glory in it, and well they may.” 

Overcome by this loyal effort, Dona Burgnana 
sank back in her chair, and I immediately util- 
ized the brief period of silence by entering into 
conversation with the fair senorita, whose eyes 
sparkled as though she appreciated the humor 
of the situation and enjoyed it thoroughly. 

Those eyes ! How dared T say that such orbs 
were cold and gray. They were soft, dark, ex- 
pressive, ‘ and in their depths I read my fate. 
Our conversation was commonplace. Why should 
it have been otherwise ? 

Not knowing how to open the conversation 
more quickly, and dreading Dona Burguana’s 
speedy recovery of the powers of speech, I asked, 
with more diffidence than I care to confess : 

‘‘Is not life in Vera Cruz rather dull?” 

‘‘ Ah, no,” she replied, in a voice that seemed 
to sound from fairyland, “ I have lived here all 
my life and could not find it dull,” 

“I thought, perhaps, the unstable condition of 
the government might seriously affect the social 
world.” 

“ It is true, we are not as rich as we once 
were, owing to the revolution, and the many 
political changes since that deplorable event, 
but that does not prevent us from enjoying our- 
selves. Is the city of Mexico dull now ? I always 


A PEIVATE MATTEE. 


45 


thought it very gay. Does the presence of so 
many soldiers at the capital frighten the people 
there out of all enjoyment? Col. Iturhide must 
be a very bad man, or he would not be doubly 
a traitor.” 

No, the capital is always full of light and 
merriment. The people there seem insatiable in 
their craving for pleasure, and there are thous- 
ands of means of divertisement. In the capital^ 
less attention is paid to politics than in the 
provinces, except by the soldiers and politicians, 
a few patriots, and members of the royalist 
faction. But I like Vera Cruz better than the 
capital,” here I threw a little expression in my 
voice, though not enough to alarm or offend the 
senorita, I know few people here, but those 
with whom I am fortunate enough to be ac- 
quainted, have my warmest friendship.” 

I was thinking of only Nama and Madona, 
the robust and refined beauties of my very lim- 
ited acquaintance. Both were beautiful, though 
of very different types of beauty. Their stations 
in life were as opposite as their charms. One 
appealed to my animal nature, the other to my 
intellectual craving for something pure and re- 
fined. One had to combat my vanity and now, 
my disdain, while the other must be won. She 
muht stoop to love me and ah ! how much more 


46 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


attractive was the gallant fight for the eagle 
than the quiet possession of the poor dove caught 
in a trap. 

My words amused Madona, for she understood 
their meaning, but she was not the kind of 
woman to carry on a coarse flirtation. 

“ Indeed,” she said, “ then it is fortunate for 
you that you like the place so well, as I am 
told that your regiment is to remain here all 
winter.” 

I had hoped for my words to elicit a few 
coquettish remarks and was disappointed by her 
reply. As I raised my eyes, having cast them 
down to conceal my vexation, I again became 
aware of the presence of Dona Burguana. She 
was watching us with marked disapproval. 

“ Pardon, senor,” she said, rising as she spoke, 
“ but it is time Madona and I were departing.” 

“ Will we meet again, senorita,” I asked, as 
Madona arose to accompany her chaperone, hop- 
ing to receive an invitation to call. 

“ I hope that we may,” she replied, with the 
studied simplicity with which a woman can parry 
the most pertinent question, and I noticed a 
slight shadow pass over her face. I dared not 
press the matter further. As she turned to join 
her companion, she smiled to me — not the smile 
of a coquette, but that of a beautiful woman, 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


47 


who is sure of her charms and disdains the 
conquests, which make older and less attractive 
women happy. I watched her until she left the 
room, and then turned to an open window to 
await the time when Vermodi would see me 
safely from the place. 


CHAPTER yil. 

Without appearing to do so, I occupied my 
time observing the guests present. There were 
stately old men; stout, matronly women; young 
people, who seemed oppressed by a weight of 
care which they could not throw off and others, 
who seemed oblivious to the distress pictured on 
the faces of their associates and seemed to enjoy 
themselves with zest. 

Some of those present were marked by a haughty, 
half defiant carriage, as they moved about 
the salon ; others, not so bold, were silent and 
reflective, while some moved about with pale, 
downcast faces, as though anxious to avoid ob- 
servation, obviously fearful of some danger that 
I could only suspect. 

“ So these are the bold, plotting Bourbonists,” 
I muttered, almost in contempt, “and this is the 
manner in which they carry on their intrigues.” 

Suddenly, a dead hush passed over the salon. 

Listening attentively, to ascertain the cause of 
the silence, I heard the steady tramp of infantry 
soldiers advancing toward the house, along the 
graveled walks. Now and then a sharp word of 
command was uttered, which, with the occasional 
rattle of the officers’ scabbards, as the advanc- 


A PKIVATE MATT EE. 


49 


ing troop drew near, spread consternation among 
the guests present. 

It would prove my ruin to be found in a 
house crowded with conspirators, and I looked 
around for some means of escape. 

The window, by which I stood, opened on a 
small balcony and I sprang through it. As I 
was on the point of lowering myself to the 
ground from the balcony, I saw the soldiers ad- 
vancing directly toward me and drew back be- 
hind the shutters. When the troop passed around 
the house, I hastily threw myself from the bal- 
cony and, finding myself clear of the house, ran 
without looking back, until I reached the friendly 
shadow of the trees in the park. 

Then, hiding myself among some bushes, I 
looked back toward the scene of action. I was 
almost overcome by my terror, because all my 
hopes and prospects — perhaps, my life — were at 
stake and I trembled. 

The soldiers had surrounded the mansion and 
a squad entered, to ascertain the cause of the 
gathering, or make arrests. 

At that time, very close watch was kept on 
assemblages of citizens, of a social nature or 
otherwise. 

For a short time, all remained quiet about the 
building; the soldiers on duty outside walked 

* 4 


60 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


alertly about the ditferent entrances and beneath 
the windows and manifested deep interest in the 
proceedings inside. Soon they gathered together 
as though to prepare for an attack. 

“ Perhaps,” thought I, “ an absence of tact in 
answering the officers’ queries has precipitated 
an encounter.” 

Just at this interesting point, the lights in the 
salon were extinguished and the darkness pre- 
vented me from seeing more. 

Several shots were fired ; women screamed, and 
loud, angry voices could be heard, but these 
sounds soon ceased and the silence ensuing be- 
came almost unendurable. 

A thick smoke finally became outlined on the 
sky, but gradually gave way to flames and I 
realized that the stately old mansion was burn- 
ing — probably fired by some of the royalists 
themselves, though it proved fatal to their chances 
of escape, as the flames illuminated the park as 
bright as day and attracted the attention of the 
whole city. Drums were beat, bells rung — soon 
the whole military in garrison at Vera Cruz 
would be on the scene, and I looked around to 
see if my hiding place had been discovered. I 
saw only a few other persons crouching among 
the bushes near me. They glared at me with 
gleaming, murderous eyes and, thinking me a 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


51 


member of the attacking party, they rushed up- 
on mfe. 

I saw the flash of their stillettoes in the glare 
of the light, heard them curse me with mortal 
bitterness, then knew no more. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


When I regained consciousness, I found myself 
in my room at the tavern. Seated beside my bed 
was Nama, watching me attentively. When I 
opened my eyes, her joy was rapturous, judging 
from her expressions of delight. 

Glancing toward the darkened windows, I saw 
the faint rays of an evening sun shining through 
a chink in the shutters. 

“How long have I been here, Nama,” I asked, 
rising to a sitting position with difficulty. 

“ Since last night, Carlos.” 

She always called me Carlos. 

“Who brought me here?” 

“ I do not know. It was dark when they came 
and I did not see their faces. When they rap- 
ped on the door, they only waited until some one 
answered, then hurried away. I was frightened 
at first, as I thought you had been murdered, 
but,” she continued, patting my cheek affection- 
ately with her chubby little hand, “you are still 
alive to love your naughty sweetheart,” lower- 
ing her voice and glancing toward the door. 

I attempted to smile, but feeling a sharp pain 
in the temple, I fell back upon the pillow. 

Nama became very anxious at once, but recov- 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


53 


ering myself I assured her that it was nothing 
serious, then asked what time it was. 

It is almost half past two,’' she said. 

‘‘How am I injured? What is the matter with 
me?” I asked, almost pettishly, the pain increasing. 

“You was struck on the head by some one 
and knocked senseless. Don’t feel worried; the 
doctor says your injuries are not dangerous.” 

“Has any one called to see me?” 

“Yes, a lot of soldiers were here. The Captain 
came up to see you.” 

“ An arresting squad ! ” 

Springing from the bed, I would have fallen 
to the floor had not Naina caught me in her 
strong arms, and steadied me until I had recover- 
ed sufficiently to stand alone. 

“Arrest you,” she cried. “No, no, they shall 
not do it — you have done nothing!” 

“ I must dress and will go to headquarters im- 
mediately,” I exclaimed , then, as she clung to 
me despairingly I assured her of my immediate 
return. Greatly relieved, she left the room; and 
hurriedly dressing, I rushed from the house. 

Hoping to avoid arrest until I could see my 
colonel, 1 slipped through narrow alleyways and 
unfrequented streets. Arriving at the barracks, 
I entered Col. Martine’s office, where that effici- 
ent officer was engaged in the heavy mental and 


54 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


physical labor of attending to his pimples. He 
was so engrossed by this occupation, that he fail- 
ed to notice my entering until I noisily drew a 
chair to his table. 

. “Ah, lieutenant,” he said, calmly looking up at 
me, “you are here, are you? I understood that 
you was badly wounded about the head.” 

“ The wound was not of much consequence, I 
assure you,” I answered in a very-much- obliged 
to-you tone of voice, hoping to appease the Col- 
onel’s impending wrath, though his continued 
calmness was no good omen. “I have come to 
report my unexcused absence from roll call, this 
morning.” 

“Indeed? well, proceed.” 

I then told him of my night’s adventure, hid- 
ing nothing, nor creating extenuating circum- 
stances.” 

“You say that you accompanied Vermodi, 
knowing that you were committing treason,” ask- 
ed the colonel, with a malicious snarl. I do not 
believe he ever liked me, and he was glad, I have 
no doubt, to have an opportunity to call my con- 
duct into question, a thing that had never hap- 
pened before. 

Grreatly mortified, I answered with as much 
humility as I could command. 

“I knew him to be a Bourbon royalist and 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


55 


that he was taking me to a gathering of such 
people on a purely social occasion.” 

Col. Martine shrugged his shoulders at this, 
and looked incredulous. 

“Senor,” said he, with re-assuring familiarity, 
^‘ you are well acquainted with the rebels — that 
is very good. Now, I am going to send you to 
them with despatches, that is, verbal ones. You 
are probably aware of the fact that young Ver- 
modi escaped last night, with several others, and 
has raised the standard of revolt at, or near. Poor 
Sinner’s Cross, on the road leading to the Capi- 
tol. A number of ignorant peasants have joined 
him, though they are unacquainted with the cause 
of the trouble and think, no doubt, that they are 
aiding in an effort to restore the republic.” 

‘‘I did not know this before,” I exclaimed, an- 
gry at his assurance of my guilt. 

‘^Yery well, that’s all right,” he continued, im- 
patient at the interruption. ‘^As I was saying, 
you can go to the rebel leaders and explain, that 
if they will renounce their foolish plan of sup- 
porting the Bourbon despots, to-morrow morning, 
when I march from Yera Cruz to attack them, 
we can join forces, return to the city, declare Itur- 
bide’s rule at an end, and in due time restore 
the fallen republic. If they refuse this proposi- 
tion, they will suffer the penalty. Come, we must 


66 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


see General Santa Anna liefore you start, the 
governor may have something to say to you, 
— come.” 

Leaving the barracks we passed along the 
streets in the direction of the governor’s palace. 

We had not gone far when we were joined by 
several other officers bent in the same direction. 

The streets were narrow, and the doors open 
directly upon them. There were no sidewalks, 
so the pedestrians accommodated themselves 
wherever they could find a dry place, as the slops 
and refuse were unceremoniously dumped into 
the streets. 

Picking our way carefully along, we arrived 
opposite a small chapel, midway between the 
barracks and the palace, on the Calle del Yodo. 

At the door stood a priest, who accosted us, 
asking for Colonel Martine. The valiant Colonel 
stepped forward to claim the honor. 

“ Come into the chapel,” said the supposed 
father, “I desire to speak to you a moment.” 

“I am in a great hurry,” answered the officer, 
“will not an hour hence do just as well.” 

“ What I have to say is important ; but suit 
yourself,” returned the priest. 

The Colonel said no more. As he entered the 
chapel, the door was hurriedly closed behind him. 
While waiting on the outside, we heard angry 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


67 


voices in hot dispute, then the sound of scuflBLing. 
Supposing that violence was being done Colonel 
Mar tine, 1 attempted to open the chapel door, but 
it had been barred. 

Gentlemen,” I exclaimed, Colonel Martine is 
being murdered, we must do something to assist 
him ! ” 

Then rushing against the door with our com- 
bined force, we tore it off its hinges and entered 
the church. 

On the floor, close to the door, lay the pros- 
trate form of Colonel Martine. A thin stream of 
blood oozed from a wound beneath his thick 
military jacket, forming pools in the declivities 
as it spread over the floor. 

Horrifled, we delayed making a search for the 
murderers, and when we looked for his assailants 
found the chapel deserted. 

A door, at the rear of the place, stood open, 
and through this the assassins must have made 
their exit. 

Pursuit was out of the question, we would not 
know the guilty ones, even though we were to 
overtake them. 

Knowing full well the sure and deadly work of 
the stilletto in the hands of a Mexican, I felt 
convinced that Colonel Martine was beyond suc- 
cor, but returning to where he lay, I bent over 


58 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


the prostrate form, to determine whether life was 
yet extinct, my companions watching me with 
deep interest. 

After a hasty examination, I raised my head 
and looked aronnd mournfully as I said : 

‘^Alas, he is dead ! ’’ 

For a moment after this declaration, great 
excitement prevailed. 

When order was at last restored, and the Mexi- 
cans had concluded their elaborate vows of ven- 
geance — which they had no intention of fulfilling 
— I remarked rather contemptuously : 

Now, gentlemen, if your oaths will permit you, 
we will do something for the dead soldier. If 
Lieutenant Gura will procure a conveyance to re- 
move the body from this place, some one else 
can notify the police and inform General Santa 
Anna.’’ 

As I mentioned this last duty, every man start- 
ed, eager to perform a mission which would com- 
mand the governor’s attention, and perhaps at- 
tract it to the bearer of the information. 

Almost forgetting my surroundings, I could 
scarce restrain a laugh, when I saw them debate 
as to who should bear the message. 

It finally ended in selecting the senior officer 
present, the major of my regiment. 

Wrapping the stiffening form of the colonel in 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


59 


my cloak, I placed him against the wall, out of 
the accumulated blood. 

For an hour we awaited Gura’s return with the 
conveyance, but not a sound disturbed the still- 
ness of the almost deserted streets. 

The oppressive silence of the chapel was wear- 
ing, and thoroughly worn out, we decided to send 
another officer for another vehicle, when the long- 
delayed coach arrived, filled with a bevy of ex- 
cited officers. Placing the corpse in the coach, 
we returned to the barracks. 

After performing all the duties devolving upon 
me as a fellow officer of the murdered Colonel, 
I had an opportunity to return to my apartments. 

Walking rapidly in the direction of the tavern, 
I remembered my engagement with Nama and 
when I reached the enclosure surrounding the 
garden I sprang over it. 

Namawas standing just outside of a small arbor, 
and seemed inspecting the plants with extraor- 
dinary inte:^est, for a j^oung lady of her careless, 
juanty disposition. 

An occasional glance toward the house, how- 
ever, indicated that there was something on her 
mind besides gardening. 

She was probably anticipating my approach 
from the tavern, or was fearful lest a watchful 
relative was on the alert. 


60 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


Stealing noiselessly up behind her I caught 
the surprised lass in my arms. 

Turning her startled face toward me, she did 
not seem at all inclined to scream or part com- 
pany, upon learning whom her assailant was. 

Strolling through the garden, hidden from ob- 
servation by the increasing gloom, we talked of 
that which was uppermost in our minds — love. 

She had met very few people, although her 
life had been spent in a tavern, and her ideas 
of love and, in fact, everything else, were odd. 

She existed in a region of dreams, and a real- 
ity colored an(3. brightened by the visions of her 
imagination. Suddenly drawing herself away 
from me, she softly said : 

“I must leave you now, Carlos.” 

I could not understand her haste to depart, 
having seen nothing more disturbing than a flash 
of light from the side door when it had been 
opened and immediately closed again. 

“ Stay a minute longer, darling,’’ I pleaded, 
unwilling for her to leave me that moment. 

She hesitated, then seated herself upon the 
grass beside me.. 

Stolen sweets are sweetest of all, yet it' was 
humiliating to meet a plain tavern girl, more 
beautilul and fascinating than most of her kind 
it is true, in a kitchen garden, down among the 


A PEI V ATE MATTEE. 


61 


cabbages and beets. 

Had she been a ‘dady,’’ the intrigue would 
have been more to my liking. 

I would have preferred a scented note, fixing 
the appointment in the shadowy orchard, behind 
some stately old pile. 

If the lady were lofty and proud, though still 
a woman, loving and passionate, I would fight 
and slay anyone daring to intrude upon us. 

Knotty old orchard trees ; beans, peas and car- 
rots ! 

Imagination rises superior to circumstances, 
however, and I began to woo Nama as I would 
a haughty duchess. This pleased her, and she 
essayed to assume the airs and graces of the 
character she had affected, with a bewitchingly 
ludicrous effect. 

In the midst of our merriment, a deep, harsh 
voice from behind us exclaimed : 

‘‘Ha, senor, I will relieve you of that lady!” 

Startled, while making a declaration of eternal 
love, I turned to see who the intruder was. 

A tall, well-proportioned young Mexican stood 
near me, glowering with passion. 

“You will find that less easily done, than said,” 
I retorted, assuming a defensive attitude. 

“I will see you again for this,” answered the 
Mexican, then turning to Nama he continued : 


62 


A PEIVATE MATTEB. 


“ Come, foolish, girl, come with me ! ” 

“ It is my brother, Juan— I must go,” whispered 
the trembling girl. 

“ If you wish to return to the house, I will con- 
duct you thither,” I replied, haughtily, “ but I will 
allow no one to impudently take you from me.” 

“ Senor seems willing to answer for his words,” 
hissed Juan between his curling lips, which had 
assumed the diabolical smile peculiar to an en- 
raged Spaniard. 

“ Rest assured, I am always at your service,” 
I answered, taking Kama’s arm and walking away. 

The frightened girl clung to my arm, too much 
excited and overwrought to speak, yet I could 
see that she was glad of what I had done. 

I was now her protector as well as her lover. 
Juan followed us to the house, where I bade Kama 
good night and retired to my room. 

“Now,” thought I, “I must fight brother Juan, 
or marry Nama, and I really don’t know which 
alternative is the worse ! ” 

Upon retiring to my room, I had determined to 
give this question my gravest consideration, but 
in the excitement of finding a captain’s commis- 
sion lying upon my desk, my delight obscured 
more important matters. 

Juan and his dagger, Nama and her charms, were 
alike forgotten, and my at most extinguished 


A PEIYATE MATTER. 


63 


faculty of dreaming was plied with renewed vigor. 

‘^Now,” I joyously reflected, my tardy fortune 
begins to assert itself — I may be great some day. 
Who knows where, after this, my promotion will 
end ? ” 

Gradually, my thoughts, wandering from the 
future, turned to the past : I saw mj^self, a great, 
awkward, ambitious boy, receiving my first im- 
pressions of life. I had quarreled with a com- 
panion larger than myself. 

Of course, words were succeeded by blows, and 
I received a sound thrashing. 

Picking myself mournfully up from the ground, 
I bitterly muttered : 

‘^And this is life ! ” 

It was my flrst defeat, yet what has followed 
my boyish discomfiture! 


CHAPTER IX. 

I was so absorbed in these reflections that I 
failed to notice a sharp rap at the door, nor did 
I realize that I was not alone until a hand was 
placed upon my shoulder, and a soft, almost 
womanish voice spoke : 

‘^Awaken, senor, I desire to speak with you.” 

I sprang from my chair. 

A glance at my visitor told me that I was in 
the presence of General Santa Anna, the governor, 
and I became very much confused. My confusion 
increased as he did not break the silence for a 
few moments, but seemed studying my face. 

Attempting to make some sort of apology and 
failing, I relapsed into silence, patiently waiting 
for the general to speak. 

This is Captain Benjamin, I presume,” he said, 
after a long pause. 

Yes, your excellency.” 

Well, Captain, have your troop out at dawn 
in the morning. You were in the confidence of 
the late Colonel Martine, therefore follow out his 
plans. The rebels are less numerous than I was 
first informed. One troop can do the work if 
properly handled. If you return, allow anyone 
to join you who desires to do so, and treat them 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


65 


all with courtesy.” 

I will obey your orders.” 

An avowal of ignorance would have landed me 
in the military prison, so I wisely kept the truth 
to myself, determined to use the little informa- 
tion I had to the best advantage, 

‘‘Do so, and I will not soon forget you,” an- 
swered Santa Anna, pleased by my manner. 
“ Iturbide, onfee a persecutor, is now a tyrant, and 
the yoke of his despotism is too heavy to be 
borne — we must throw it off.” 

With this, the patriot, drawing the loose folds 
of his long military cloak about him, turned ab- 
ruptly and left the room. 

His descending footsteps on the stairway echo- 
ed through the silent house, a door was slammed, 
and I was again left alone. 

I was thinking over my strange position, when 
the door of my room was pushed open and Nama 
rushed in. 

“ Oh, senor — wicked, faithless, Carlos,” she cried, 
weeping bitterly. 

“What have I done, Nama,” I asked soothingly, 
not a little surprised at the sudden outburst and 
wondering what it was all about, “ has some one 
said wicked things albout me ; I, who have always 
loved you?” 

“No, no, senor,” she answered mournfully, “it 
* 5 



A PRIVATE MATTER. 


67 


is not that — but, but, there’s a lady down stairs 
— who wants to see you ! ” 

“Is that all! who is she, Nama?” I asked, try- 
ing to appear unconcerned, but knowing there 
was but one woman in Vera Cruz, who knew me 
outside of the females about the inn — yet she 
was beautiful and cruel enough to break poor 
Kama’s heart. “I know no lady here — perhaps 
she wishes to see me on business — desire her to 
enter.” 

“ I told her to go away and not come aroiind 
tampering with a respectable girl’s betrothed. 
She is down stairs talking with dame Isabella.” 

At that moment Madona entered. 

How beautiful she looked in a black gown and 
a large black hat, with plumes. She was a bru- 
nette, but not at all dusky, and black was very 
becoming to her. It would take greater talent 
than mine to describe her appearance. 

I would have hurried forward to meet her, but 
was deterred by the pained look which swept 
across Kama’s face, as she detected the motion. 
Behind the visitor hobbled dame Isabella, who 
watched us with her piercing black eyes, as 
though expecting a tableau, but finding disap- 
pointment, she turned to leave, saying to Kama, 
as she pointed significantly at Madona. 

“ Come away, Kama, this is no place for you.” 


68 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


How annoying it was -to have the people of the 
inn intruding themselves upon me, and insulting 
my visitor; I could have cursed with chagrin. 

Nama, not heeding the old woman, stood in the 
doorway, her eyes filling with jealous tears, and 
her fingers nervously pulling at her apron. 

Unconscious of her intrusion, she watched her 
rival, until Madona impatiently exclaimed: 

Close the door and retire, young woman ! ” 

Giving her enemy a look of bitter hatred, such 
as a Mexican girl is alone capable of nurturing, 
Nama left the room. That passion was to con- 
sume her ! She ruined her own happiness, not I ! 

Madona’s look of amused contempt did not 
change as she turned to me and said : 

“ Senor, this visit undoubtedly surprises you, 
but I assure you it is the call of necessity which 
dictates this indelicacy.” 

Senorita may feel assured that I do not think 
at all,” I gallantly replied. 

I thank you, senor,” she returned, graciously, 
‘‘but I am in trouble, will you assist me?” 

“At any sacrifice — ever!” 

I had forgotten Nama — who was, probably, list- 
ening at the key-hole — until a more convenient 
moment. 

“Your task is easily executed — tell me where 
my brother has gone.” 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


69 


I immediately told her all I knew of the mat- 
ter, divulging the secret of the proposed attack 
on the following morning. 

You will promise not to injure my brother 
if he is taken to-morrow.” She asked this eager- 
ly, then attempted to smile 

If your brother is captured to-morrow,” I 
answered, feeling a certain degree of importance, 
^‘he will have no cause to complain of my treat- 
ment.” 

‘‘Thank you, senor,” she gratefully replied, “but 
I must not remain here long, as Dona Burguana 
might miss me and become scandalized at my 
absence.” 

She was a bold girl, as her conduct indicated, 
and yet she commanded respect and admiration. 

After conversing a few moments, she turned to 
depart. I accompanied her to the street door, 
where a sedan awaited her. Hastily bidding me 
adieu, she seated herself in the chair, and mo- 
tioned the bearers to proceed. 

Return^ing to my room, my heart overflowing 
with a passion that I dared not make known, I 
sat until my emotion had sufficiently subsided 
to retire, then tossed about in bed until past 
midnight, thinking of Madona and the future 
opened before me. 

Then, finding it impossible to go to sleep, I 


70 


A PEI Y ATE MATTEE. 


arose and after throwing a mantle across my 
shoulders, sat by the table to await the coming 
of dawn. 

The faint rays of the tallow candle fell upon 
the pages of an open book, resting in my lap, 
but my mind had wandered far into the region 
of misty dreams. 

As I sat there, the door creaked and I sudden- 
ly came to a realization of my surroundings. 

It was not Juan who entered, however. The 
vision that I saw was not at all war-like. It 
was Nama ! 

She was clad in a short night dress, and her 
arms and feet were bare. 

She knew that she was doing wrong, but she 
would not control herself, poor child. 

Finding me awake, she rushed into my arms and 
did not leave me until the first gray streaks of 
light heralded the approach of day. 


CHAPTER X. 


After disposing of a hearty breakfast, I mount- 
ed my horse at the tavern door, and started 
toward the barracks. Glancing carelessly over 
my shoulder, I saw Naina’s tear-stained face at 
the lattice of one of the windows of an apart- 
ment on the second floor. She was looking 
anxiously after me, as though she felt a presage 
of the events which were to follow. 

Touched with compassion for the poor child, I 
rode back and, halting beneath the window, called 
to her. Pleased by this attention, she opened the 
casement and looked out, to bid me a smiling 
good-bye, tossing me a rose-bud at the same time. 
I had hardly caught the flower, when the lattice 
was violently closed, and I heard Nama sobbing 
within. 

Angry at the treatment she had received from 
her intemperate brother, or uncle, I exclaimed: 

Farewell, Nama, darling, I will soon return to 
you. Angry brothers shall not part us, when I 
return.” 

A derisive laugh greeted these words and in 
my rage I would have dismounted to resent the 
insult, but remembering my position, I restrained 


72 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


myself and, putting spurs to my horse, rode away. 

As I joined my troop, the officers, who had been 
so distant a short time previous, crowded around 
me with congratulations and friendly handshakes. 

I scorned their friendship, for I knew very well 
that if I really needed it they would still be very 
distant. 

This world was created for the successful, not 
the struggling and despairing ! 

After traveling for nearly two hours over the 
dry, dusty road, we arrived at Poor Sinner’s 
Cross, finding there no indications of the rebels. 
Halting my company, I sent out spies, the only 
duty a Mexican can efficiently perform; who re- 
turned, after an interval, with the information 
that the enemy had fortified a ruined hacienda, 
several miles distant. 

Leaving the road, we followed a narrow bridle- 
path through a dense growth of chapparel. Upon 
emerging from the thicket, a desolate looking 
group of buildings loomed up before us. 

The hacienda had once been strong and impos- 
ing, but now the ruined walls and toppling tow- 
ers indicated that the time of its usefulness had 
long since passed. The high, arched gateway, 
was piled with a barricade of fallen timber, and 
from the highest pinnacle fluttered the royal en- 
sign of Spain. 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


73 


Looking over the ruins with the air of a gen- 
eral, I came to the mental conclusion that the 
place was impregnable, but, like Napoleon, I 
could not leave the field in disgrace, and deter- 
mined to hazard an attempt, no matter how dis- 
astrous the result, as I could not think of 
making an ignominious retreat without even 
having fired a musket. 

Anyway, a few Mexicans driven to the slaugh- 
ter could not be reckoned a loss. 

The besieged were watching us from their fan- 
cied security behind the ‘‘ramparts” of their hast- 
ly constructed fort. To inspire them with the 
terror which an appearance of military stratagem 
is sure to elicit, as well as to make my own sol- 
diers believe that I was an adept in the art of 
war, I ordered the company dismounted, and form- 
ed six divisions, or squads. 

After sending five of these divisions to posi- 
tions, not knowing nor caring whether they were 
of advantage, or the reverse, I addressed the re- 
maining squad, calling it the forlorn hope. 

Imitating the style and tone of Iturbide, I ex- 
plained the honor of their duty and the certain 
glory awaiting success, or defeat, if they died 
valiantly facing the enemy to the last. 

I then declared that any craven might retire 
who feared to “rush into the jaws of death.” As 


74 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


no one was cowardly, or bold enough, to claim 
this means of escaping the impending danger, I 
pointed toward the hacienda, and shouted; 

“Follow me, we charge the gateway, to honor, 
or to death ! ” 

With a wild cheer the Mexicans dashed to- 
ward the wide portal. 

As we approached the gate, an old cannon, 
planted on the roof of the hacienda, by some 
short-sighted military genius, was discharged at 
us. The ball, falling wide of its mark, ploughed 
the ground, but the shock was immediate in its 
effect upon the dilapidated building. 

A toppling tower fell, with a crash, crushing 
the roof, and destroying several of the walls. 

During the excitement following the accident, 
I assaulted the collapsed fortress, in full force, 
entering without opposition. 

Upon seeing my troopers pass over the barri- 
cades at the entrance, the rebels, recovering from 
their astonishment at the disaster, retreated to 
the interior of the hacienda, where they made 
their stand in a large, low-roofed, stone-paved 
hall, dimly lighted by narrow gothic windows. 

Here, in a place that had, probably been used 
in former times on many festive occasions, took 
place a sanguinary hand-to-hand conflict, the sim- 
ple, unadorned details of which are too horrible 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


75 


to relate. 

The place was dark and damp, and the com- 
batants could hardly see each other as they 
fought. 

Sabers had been abandoned and the deadly 
stilletto substituted. 

I knew that the Mexicans were cruel and san- 
guinary, but I never thought they could fight so 
obstinately. 

With their murderous daggers in their hands 
they become frenzied, and fight like human tigers, 
especially among themselves. 

The dead and dying lay about unregarded and 
unattended. Each man felt the necessity of pro- 
tecting himself, and had no time to assist a com- 
rade. 

During the combat, as I hastened from place 
to place, I was exposed to many dangers. I had 
received two wounds, but dared not retire. 

Both sides were about evenly matched, and vic- 
tory rested in personal bravery and alertness. 

Philip Yermodi was among the rebels. I could 
see his pale, impassive face, behind the hedge of 
polished steel blades, and heard his firm voice 
encouraging and commanding. 

I recognized several of the faces I had seen at 
the reception, among our antagonists, and was on 
the point of calling out for a cessation of hostil- 


76 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


ities, when I felt a sudden giddiness, then a rush 
of blood from the head, and I relapsed into un- 


consciousness. 


CHAPTER XI. 


A slight breeze, blowing through the trees, rus- 
tled the leaves, as, recovering from unconscious- 
ness, I stared about me bewilderedly. 

In some unaccountable manner I had been re- 
moved from the ruined hacienda, and lay on a 
pile of dead leaves, under the shade of a tall 
forest tree. 

I would have believed the whole affair a fright- 
ful dream, had not the blood, drying upon my 
face and hands, settled all such doubts. 

An internal feeling of pain overcame me, and 
a burning sensation in the region of my wounds 
set my mind on fire. 

For a short time, I was almost delirious, yet 
no one came to attend me. 

At last, worn out by thirst and pain, I sank 
into a feverish slumber. 

‘‘ The murder of Colonel Martine did us no 
good ! ” 

I started, and opened my eyes. 

Two men stood near me, engaged in earnest 
conversation. I recognized in one the priest who 
had been instrumental in the assassination of 
Colonel Martine. His companion was a small man,-" 
dressed in black. A dark fringe of beard fram- 


78 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


ed his weak, though handsome face, leaving his 
mouth and chin exposed. He seemed to stand in 
considerable fear, or awe, of the swarthy priest, 
and avoided meeting his glance, by casting his 
crafty looking eyes to the ground. 

“ No,” answered the small man, raising his 
eyes and peering among the branches of the 
trees, as though he saw something highly inter- 
esting there, “No, I think you are right, it was 
an useless murder.” 

“Murder, do you say,” exclaimed the priest, 
fiercely, as though bent upon picking a quarrel 
with his associate, “ have I not absolved the per- 
petrators of the — absolved them?” 

“That is what I meant,” replied the other, ter- 
rified by the priest’s demeanor, “ I simply desired 
to say it was useless trouble.” 

“Is the taking away of an enemy to the Pope 
and to Spain an useless trouble,” questioned the 
holy man, glaring angrily at the other, whose at- 
tention became concentrated in the interesting 
“ something ” above him. “ Maybe you will think 
it ‘useless trouble’ to rid the country of that 
traitor and spy. Captain Benjamin.” The priest 
concluded with a sarcastic sneer. 

“No, Benjamin should be shot! I remember 
his having accompanied Vermodi to our assembly 
on that unfortunate evening. It was he, perhaps. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


79 


who informed the authorities of the gathering.” 

Yes, and like a pack of fools you let him 
escape after you had him in your power only to 
head an expedition to ruin our cause and drive 
us to the mountains ! ” 

‘^But we thought him a friend — Yermodi was 
heard to introduce him as such,” answered the 
attentive gaze, nervously. 

“Well, that is all the worse for the poor, way- 
ward man.” 

I knew by the tone of the hypocrite’s voice 
and his attempt to assume a pious expression, 
that my death had been fully determined upon. 

“ Do you think the prisoner strong enough to 
escape ?” 

“Not with his wounds — come let us ascertain 
how Captain Yermodi is getting along.” 

Not a little surprised at hearing myself spoken 
of as though in imminent danger of my life, I 
arose to a sitting position, with great difficulty, 
and took a view of the situation. 

I had been lying with my head close to the 
roots of a large tree, which had obstructed my 
vision. Now, in the limited range my eyes were 
permitted, I could see nx)thing save the dark 
trunks of surrounding trees, forming an impene- 
trable barrier at a short distance. Overhead, 
through the branches of the trees, I could see the 


80 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


blue sky, dotted with white clouds, made dazzling 
by the rays of a tropical sun. 

Senorita,” I heard the small man say, though 
I could not see him, because the trees intervened 
between us, how is your brother?” 

I do not know,” answered a female voice, 
which I at once recognized as that of Madona, 
‘‘he has been unconscious for some time.” 

My heart almost stopped beating as 1 heard 
her speak. She had been near me for hours, per- 
haps and had manifested no interest in my wel- 
fare. Was she too heartless even to show a 
woman’s kindness to a wounded soldier. Thus, 
reasoning myself, I thought that she had not been 
made aware of my condition — perhaps she did 
not know of my capture. 

“ He will be better soon, I dare say,” remarked 
the priest reassuringly. 

I am glad you think so. Father Boniface,” 
answered Madona, “as I was feeling quite uneasy 
abont him. He looked — Santa Maria, what is the 
matter? Oh, brother — Philip, speak!” 

For a moment there was silence. 

Forboding evil, I attempted to crawl from be- 
hind the tree, to learn what had happened. The 
agony of the movement threw me into a swoon, 
from which I recovered only to hear Madona’s 
screams and the priest’s words of consolation. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


81 


I understood it all then ! 

The excess of Madona’s grief soon exhausted 
her, and passionate screams changed to low, pite- 
ous moans, more intense in their feeling. 

I bitterly regretted having told her where to 
find Philip, but my meditations were abruptly 
ended ; an old man approached. He was attended 
by two stout Indians, carrying a blanket between 
them. 

“Do you feel able to bear a removal,” queried 
the old man. 

“ I think that I will be able to walk, with the 
assistance of these men, senor,” I answered, 
feeling desirous of looking around me, which I 
would be unable to do in a litter. 

“ I fear you will be unable to stand it,” re- 
marked my visitor, “however, you may try.” 

Lifting me to my feet, the burly descendants of 
the Aztecs carried me between them. 

Directly behind the tree, which had proven a 
barrier to my curiosity, was another cot. Stop- 
ping my conductors, I looked down upon the 
lifeless form, swathed in bloody bandages, lying 
there. The bloodless face, the glazed eyes and 
nerveless jaws presented small resemblance to 
Philip Vermodi, whom I had seen a few days 
before in the pride of manly health and vigor. 

“ Come away,” said my aged, companion, touch- 

* 6 


82 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


ing me gently on the sleeve. 

Not heeding him, I continued to gaze upon the 
face of the dead man. Some strange fascination 
held me there, and I could not tear away. My 
assistants, at a word from the old man, caught 
me by the arms and forcibly led me away. 

In an open space among the trees, a short dis- 
tance from me, stood a small stone cottage, ap- 
parently the abode of one who sought the seclu- 
sion of the forest, as there were no domestic 
offices. The forest towered about the bald spot 
on which the building stood, to dispel all sur- 
mises as to agricultural pursuits, and a narrow, 
and but slightly worn foot-path leading to the 
door, indicated that the place was not subjected 
to frequent visits from the outside world. 

While I was speculating on these matters, we 
approached the house and I noticed that Madona 
was sitting in the shadow of tlm doorway, her 
head bent, and resting in her hands, the picture 
of sorrowing despondency. 

As I approached, she raised her head and, re- 
cognizing me, asked if my wounds were less 
painful. Her eyes were red with weeping, her 
white skin looked yellow, and her hair straggled 
about in almost slovenly confusion, yet she still 
remained a beautiful woman. 

“Senorita may . feel assured that my wounds 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


83 


are insignificant,” I responded, seating myself on 
the stone threshold by her side, though this pro- 
cedure did not receive my conductor’s approba- 
tion. Then, after a pause, I asked : 

“ So you then feel some interest in my well- 
fare ? ” 

I was looking into her eyes with great earnest- 
ness, then realizing the impropriety of a lover’s 
complaint, just after the death of the brother of 
his mistress, I blushed with confusion. 

The old man — my jailer, probably — left us, 
scowling fiercely as he went, as though he would 
have preferred to see us less cordial. 

“I feel the interest in you, natural for me 
to entertain towards one who is seriously in- 
jured,” answered Madona, with a certain degree 
of coldness which I attributed to the dignity of 
her character. 

“ It is kind of you to feel the most passing 
sympathy for me,” I returned, almost as distant- 
ly as she. 

“ Senor, you are in danger,” exclaimed Madona, 
abruptly, as though moved by some sudden im- 
pulse ; “ if you remain here your life will be 
taken.” 

“ I know that, but how am I to escape, in my 
present condition?” I replied, looking at my 
blood-stained shirt, I am unable to move about 


84 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


without pain, and if I left this place, it would 
he hut to perish in the forest.” 

“You promised to do all you could for my 
brother, and I will do as much for you. Yes, you 
promised, yet what good did it do ? ” 

“If I could have averted the calmity, I would 
have done so,” I returned. “ I would have done 
so to keep the dark cloud of grief from you , I 
would have done so through love of him ! ” 

Her harshness disappeared at these words, and 
we conversed in an easy, natural way. We had 
heen together a very short time when we perfect- 
ed plans, as we supposed, for traveling to the 
capital, where her relatives resided. 

“We will leave just as soon as I can get Major 
Victoria and Father Boniface to permit you to go. 
I will meet with opposition, and it may take 
some time to accomplish this.” 

My jailer appeared at this moment, apparently 
very much agitated, and taking me hy the arm, 
he led me into the house. 

Surprised hy his strange actions, I expected 
some startling disclosure. When he had me 
safely in an inner room, he explained that “my 
hed was ready, whenever I desired to retire.” 

Angry at the way he had drawn me away 
from Madona, I would have returned, hut found 
the door locked and escape impossible. 


CHAPTER XII. 


Seating myself upon a rickety stool I gave vent 
to several interjections, not calculated to inspire 
the devout with a regard for me, and then took a 
survey of the room. 

The inner walls of the cottage were of hewn 
logs, loosely put together. The crevices between 
the logs remained undisturbed by the builders 
of the primitive structure, and a person in one 
room could hear all that transpired in the other 
parts of the house. 

The furniture was scant. A small cot, in one 
corner, two stools, and a small table, on which 
an unlighted candle was placed, envoiced the en- 
tire contents of the room. 

While I was gloomily wondering what was to 
be my fate, I heard voices in an adjoining room. 
I recognized Madona’s voice, and confess that I 
listened attentively to discover the tenor of the 
conversation. 

“I hope you do not intend to murder the 
young man ! ” I heard Madona exclaim, in an 
angry tone. 

“If you will promise me one thing, I will do 
anything you say,” answered the male voice, 
which proved to be that of Major Victoria. 


86 


A PIRVATE MATTER. 


“And what is yonr condition ? ” 

“An easy one, at least to me ! That yon be- 
come my wife ! ” 

“Senor, you are insolent,” cried Madona, haught- 
ily, then regaining her composure she remarked 
icily : “ Surely, this is a strange way to begin 
your suit ! ’’ 

“ You don’t expect me to free your lover, sen- 
orita, that he may place himself in my way, do 
you?” 

“ Really, senor, I — could anyone be in your 
way, regarding me ? ” 

“Listen,” hissed her companion, “ if you desire 
to save Captain Benjamin, comply with my con- 
ditions. If not, he dies ! ” 

“ Bo not be to sure, senor, I may prevail upon 
Father Boniface to liberate Philip’s friend.” 

“ Father Boniface will never let him leave this 
place alive — not if he can help it. Come, I offer 
you the Captain’s life. Bo you accept my terms.” 

“ Senor, I will not accept your offer, and beg 
that you leave me.” 

“ Ah ! ” 

“ Shall I summon some one to protect me from 
insult ? ” 

“ Come, hear me. You desire to go to the Cap- 
ital?” 

“ Yes,” exclaimed Madona, with eagerness. 


A PKIYATE MATTEE. 


87 


‘‘As my wife, I will take you there — not other- 
wise ! ” 

“We will not travel together then.” 

“ Senorita, do you know who you scoff at. See 
it is a Colonel at your feet. I have accepted a 
commission under the Emperor Augustine. In a 
few weeks I return with a regiment of regulars, 
to cleanse this country of its pestilence — the 
Bourbon royalists ! ” 

“ Beware, the Bourbon royalists can avenge 
treachery ! ” 

“ I leave in three days for the capital. By the 
time they know of my departure, I will be back 
among them with the troops.” 

“ Do you know. Colonel Victoria, that you have 
placed yourself in my power. Now promise to 
liberate Captain Benjamin — you dare not refuse.” 

“I do refuse, and if you expose me, I will — 
kill you ! ” 

“This is farcical, absurd! If you fail to con- 
sent to further Captain Benjamin’s escape by to- 
morrow night, I will disclose all you have un- 
folded to me to Father Boniface.” 

“ Traitress, you would ruin me ! ” 

“You were pitiless.” 

“Aye, and I can avenge ! ” 

‘Y do not fear your threats, senor.” 

“ Woman, the time is near when you will learn 


88 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


whether I threaten in vain. I would avenge my- 
self now, but — ” 

“You fear to, I suppose,” cried Madona, with 
scorn. “ Now, senor, I command you to leave 
me. Hesitate, and I will call Senor Yarmada — 
then, too, do not forget Captain Benjamin is near.” 

At the mention of my name as a protector, a 
thrill of pleasure ran through me. 

Could the proud, independent, Mexican girl, 
look to me for protection? Ah, how pleasant 
was that delusion — how many castles I built up- 
on that thin surface ! Happy the man who 
never dreams — his disappointments are few, and 
less hard to bear. 

I had been so interested in the preceding dia- 
logue, that I did not see Senor Yarmada, my 
jailor, standing beside me. He must have nois- 
lessly entered and heard the entire conversation, 
for a sinister look stole over his countenance, as 
he turned to me and said: 

“Say nothing about this and I will see that 
you are allowed to go your way in peace. You 
can accompany Senorita Vermodi to the capital. 
Colonel Victoria will follow you — I will furnish 
the rest. 

“You mean that you will deceive Colonel Yer- 
modi, assassinate him, and let me finish the er- 
rand you have given him, to blind him, and make 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


89 


him more easily your prey ? ” 

‘‘I do,” answered the old man, pleased at my 
readiness to understand him. 

Then I decline to act as an accomplice in a 
murder with you, an old man, nearer the grave 
than God, should abhor ! ” 

Peace,^you insult one who could do you great 
injury if he desired to. I ask nothing of you — 
expect nothing of me ! ” 

If you could secure my release were I to con- 
sent to assist in a murder, your conscience, your 
honor, should make you do so if I decline to in- 
directly stain my hands with blood.” 

Prom the appearance of your hands, at pres- 
ent,” said senor Yarmada, satirically, I infer 
that you have been more than indirectly con- 
cerned in the shedding of blood.” 

As he uttered these words, he left the apart- 
ment. 

“Well, that settles it — I am going to die,” I 
reflected, “here is my death-bed and this is one 
of the closing scenes. After this I will never be- 
lieve that there is anything grand, or terrible, on 
earth — it is all flat, emotional life. Everything 
smells of clay! Here is Oliver Benjamin going 
to die the sublime death of a martyr, yet he is 
neither willing, nor ready. If all the glorious 
martyrs were in the same frame of mind, what 


90 


A PKIVATK MATTER. 


a lot of romance lias been imposed upon me all 
my life ! ” 

Two days passed, and still I remained in my 
room, seeing only the Indian woman who brought 
my meals. 

The days dragged slowly along, and the long- 
ing for night only changed into a longing for 
day, as night closed about me. 

On the morning of the third day, as I lay in 
bed, indulging in my usual sunrise meditation, 
the door opened, and my jailer entered. 

Gret up,” said he, ‘‘you are wanted outside.” 

“ If you want me outside,” I responded, imitat- 
ing his surly tones, “ wait until I feel disposed 
to come.” 

“It is for your own good ; do as you like about 
it,” he returned, slamming the door angrily. 

At the words, “your own good,” I sprang from 
my recumbent position as though electriiied, and 
encased myself in a suit of civilian’s clothing, 
which had been provided for me, then hurried, 
as fast as the stiffness resulting from my wounds 
would permit, from the house. 

Major Victoria was standing at the door, Ma- 
dona by his side. She seemed to have forgotten 
their quarrel and was chatting with him uncon- 
cernedly as if nothing had happened. I wondered 
whether it were possible for Madona, seemingly 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


91 


SO exalted above ordinary mortals, to aid in tlie 
murder of her companion, which I felt assured 
was meditated. Her conduct seemed to justify 
this suspicion, yet I thrust it aside, horrified at 
the idea. 

‘^Are you able to walk three miles through the 
forest to the road,” queried Major Victoria, as I 
joined them. 

‘‘Yes senor, I can stand the trip,” I replied, 
with confidence. 

“The roads are bad,” remarked the major, by 
way of discouragement, “the jostling of the dili- 
gence may prove too much for you, senor.” 

“ Have no fear, senor,” I responded, as Madona 
glanced encouragingly toward me, “ my wounds 
will not inconvenience me.” 

“ Have your own way, senor,” exclaimed Vic- 
toria, in disgust. 

“ You may regret having insisted upon taking 
the trip, a man in your condition can be none too 
careful.” 

“ Come senor, let us be off,” interrupted Mado- 
na, suddenly ; “if we tary here, the coach may 
pass before we reach the road.” 

With this, she took my arm and following the 
doughty Major, who watched us with lowering 
brow, walked toward the path leading to the road. 
Our companion’s disapproval increased as we en- 


92 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


gaged in a friendly chat, and leaving tlie post he 
had assumed, a few paces in advance of us, as 
guide, he walked to the other side of Madona. 

After stumbling through a wild, unfrequented 
jungle, we andved at the road, distinguishable as 
such by its being more rough and wasted then 
the surrounding land. Here we waited fully an 
hour for the irregular stage, and came to the 
conclusion that it had passed, when we heard the 
crack of the postillion’s whip, as we were on the 
point of mournfully retiring. The loud rumble 
of the coach upon the rough road, indicating that 
it was very near, caused us to hurry precipitately 
back to the roadside. 

Our shouts for the conveyance to stop, only 
increased the driver’s desire to proceed, and be- 
laboring the horses with all his energy the coach 
whirled past us. 

Finding that we had not brought our firearms 
to bear, and that our appearance was amicable, 
the diligence waited at some distance, to accom- 
modate us. After making elaborate and untruth- 
ful explanations to the guard, we were allowed 
seats in the conveyance. 

The road passed through a dreary waste of un- 
cultivated country, and the monotony of the jour- 
ney was undisturbed, except by the occasional 
picturesque ruin of some prehistoric building, a 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


93 


few dirty villages, and an occasional hacienda 
of by no means prosperous appearance. 

In the villages were we changed horses, the in- 
habitants crowded around the coach, to admire 
and criticise, according to their varied tastes and 
humors at that moment. 

As the sun was reluctantly sinking below the 
horizon, we entered a village, much larger than any 
we had previously passed through. A flag waved 
over the town, indicating that it was a mili- 
tary post, and it was with a throbbing heart that 
I heard the guard inform a fellow traveler that 
it was our stopping place for the night. 

It was almost dark when we arrived at the 
tavern door, where the host was standing, with a 
light in his hand, awaiting us. We were ushered 
into a large apartment, where the table was 
spread, and the guests assembled. 

‘'Seat yourselves, senors, and senora, ” exclaim- 
ed the affable host, rubbing his hands, “take 
seats anywhere.” 

“Landlord” I said, drawing the worthy host 
aside, “I desire private accomodations for that 
lady ; your best. ” 

“ Ha, a lady, ” cried the host, becoming excited, 
“here Maria, Junata, — come, hasten, do not tary. 
Lazy wenches, conduct this lady^^' with decided 
emphasis, “ to the second story front room and 


94 


A PRIVATE MAa'TER. 


see that she wants nothing.” 

After the excitement attending escorting “ the 
lady ” to her apartment, had subsided, and the 
servants returned, I seated myself at the table, 
intending to obtain something to eat, as I was 
very hungry after our long ride and light lun- 
cheon. 

While waiting for the repast, I glanced around 
the room. 

Major Victoria was standing in a corner, en- 
gaged in earnest conversation with one of the 
serving men. The man shook his head and peer- 
ed suspiciously about him. 

Seeing my eyes bent upon them, he whispered 
something to the Major and left him. 

I had no time to wonder at their behavior, as 
the street door opened at that moment and two 
soldiers entered. 

Turning my head quickly, I hid my face in 
my hands, with my elbows leaning upon the 
table, hoping to avoid attracting the attention of 
the newcomers. 

It was well that I did so. The officers, passing 
through the room, paused near me. 

“ Poor Benjamin,” I heard one say, “ I fear that 
he has been foully dealt with.” 

“ Yes,” agreed the other, “ I don’t doubt but 
that his bloody carrion is rotting in one of those 


A PEI V ATE MATTEE. 


95 


dark forests we passed throEgh to-day. The 
rebels must have murdered him soon after the 
fight — this search is a foolish affair.’’ 

‘‘Benjamin was a good officer, I will never for- 
get the way he stormed the fortified hacienda. 
He is undoubtedly a brilliant officer. Do you 
remember the manner in which he conducted him- 
self when Colonel Martine was murdered?” 

“Why, Gura,” exclaimed his companion, “I 
never supposed you were so enthusiastic! Ben- 
jamin was, perhaps, a good officer, but I never 
liked him. If he never turns up — why, old fel- 
low, either you, or I, get his command, and — well, 
I don’t care if a mercenary dies every day, if it 
will further my promotion.” 

“ Come, Morelo, that sounds very mercenary 
itself,” said Gura, disgusted by the other’s sel- 
fishness, “ that is not right for you to speak of 
a dead comrade that way. Benjamin never did 
you an injury. He treated you well, and it is 
unreasonable for you to dislike him.” 

“ Well, old boy,” returned Morelo, “we need not 
quarrel over such a small matter. I simply dis- 
like Benjamin because Santa Anna seems to have 
taken such a violent fancy for him. If he had 
not disappeared, who knows what the General 
would not have done for him?” 

“I am not jealous of Benjamin’s success,” an- 


96 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


swered Grura, “ for I know that I will attain the 
eminence for which I am qualified by attention 
to duty and honesty of purpose. If Benjamin is 
more talented, he will become greater than I, but 
if he is dead and out of the way, that is not a 
guarantee that I will succeed him.” 

“ Come, come, old man,” cried Morelo, with as- 
sumed nonchalance, “ you make me think I am 
talking of my grandfather. Let us return to the 
barracks.” 

When they left the tavern I drew a long sigh 
of relief, as discovery meant disgrace, even death, 
after I had won a name for myself. 

If it had not been for Madona, I would have 
returned to Vera Cruz, to follow Santa Anna’s 
fortunes, but I could not leave the poor girl at 
the mercy of Major Victoria. 

How different might have been my fate had I 
returned to Santa Anna — I might have become a 
great revolutionary chief; perhaps I would have 
made my name immortal. 

But I could not turn back. 

I had already sacrificed ambition at the altar 
of love, and hurried blindly on to my doom ! 

“ The lady has been made comfortable,” said 
the landlord approaching. “Did you come from 
Vera Cruz, senor? No? Then you did not hear 
of the battle with the insurgents there ? ” 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


97 


“No, how did the battle terminate?’’ 
u rebels were defeated with great loss, 
nearly a thousand killed, I believe. ” 

“Did General Santa Anna command the suc- 
cessful troops,” I asked, amused at the information, 
and wishing to know whether I had obtained my 
full share of glory. 

“Oh, no, a young captain named Benjamin had 
charge of our troops, and handled them like a 
veteran, ” replied the communicative host. 

“ Indeed, the captain must be enjoying his 
honors now, I suppose General Santa Anna recog- 
nized the victory becomingly ? ” 

“ The captain is missing, ” replied the wordy 
fellow; he was carried off by the rebels just as 
victory crowned his efforts, and he sank down on 
the grass covered with wounds. If he were here 
now, I dare say he would be wearing a colonel’s 
eagles. 

At the mention of what might have been, tears 
started to my eyes, and it was with an effort 
that I controlled my emotion sufficiently to re- 
quest the host to show me to my room. Even 
after retiring, I lay in bed, cursing tardy fortune, 
which had, after a year’s patient waiting, given 
me an opportunity to accomplish something, and 
then turn me from my triumph. 

As I lay awake, the moonbeams, shining through 
* 7 





A PRIVATE MATTER. 


99 


tlie trees before my windows, played upon the 
walls, forming flitting ghost-like shadows, and fill- 
ing the dark corners with grinning assassins, 
whose white eyeballs and gleaming stilletos I 
fancied, I beheld. 

My repeated failures to die wore me out and, 
forgetting daggers and goblins, I fell asleep. 

The strain I had undergone was too great for 
my slumber to be deep. Several times, I half 
awoke at slight sounds about the inn, and I was 
just falling asleep after one of these frights, 
when a voice whispered in my ear, as a hand 
shook me : 

“Captain, Captain Benjamin!” 

I was becoming disgusted with myself, for the 
alarm caused by the moonbeams and, after 
awakening to find the room in darkness, — the 
candle having burned to the socket, or been ex- 
tinguished, — I cursed myself for a coward, then 
thinking that I had been dreaming, thought no 
more of the matter and turned over. 

“ Are you awake, ” the voice repeated, finding 
that I made no sound. 

This time I was fully aroused and demanded 
what the intruder wanted. 

“Not so loud, captain,” implored the voice, 
which I recognized as that of Major Victoria; 
“there are murderers in the house, I have just 


100 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


escaped them, they are searching for me ! ” 

“What have you done to have assassins fol- 
low you ? ” 

A low laugh was the only response, then the 
door closed with a scarcely audible click, and I 
was left painfully uncertain whether I was alone, 
or with company. 

As I listened, I heard the sound of scuffling in 
the hall, then a loud shriek, and the noise made 
by a heavy body falling down the stairway. 

Hastily dressing myself, I ran out to ascertain 
the cause of the disturbance. 

The landlord met me at the door and together 
we proceeded to investigate the mystery. 

On the floor, near the foot of the stairway, lay 
the body of Major Victoria. 

He was lying on his back, and his white, dis- 
torted visage stared up at us. 

A wound in the breast, half hidden by the shirt 
he wore, which was stained with blood, told how 
he had come to his death. 

Thrust in the still warm hand of the dead man, 
was a small piece of paper, bearing this inscrip- 
tion in Spanish : “ The untrue.” This convinced 
me as to the murderers. 

No other traces were left by the assassins, who 
had escaped through the still open door. 

“ So you know the murdered gentlemen,” quer- 


A PEI V ATE MATTER. 


101 


ied the landlord with imperturbable composure. 

‘^No,” I answered, knowing that an acquaint- 
ance would detain me, and might prove fatal to 
my prospects. 

‘^You came in the same coach with him,” per- 
sisted the inn-keeper, whom experience had taught 
the immediate necessity of finding a friend for 
his deceased guests, do you know a little about 
him — just a little?” 

‘‘I have never even had the pleasure of an 
acquaintance with the dead man, and know noth- 
ing of him — nothing,” I answered decisively, 
hoping to silence the host by my vehemence, 
knowing that I was no match for the crafty 
fellow. 

“ Pardon, senor,” said the host, humbly, as 
his diplomacy took another turn and he remem- 
bered that he had living patrons to cater to, 
simply desired to know.” 

‘‘Very well, I regret that I cannot give you 
some information ; but what time is it ? ” 

“Half-past four o’clock, senor.” 

“The early diligence leaves at six?” 

“It does, senor.” 

“ Then send someone to awaken the lady.” 

“So early, senor?” 

“Yes, we are in a great hurry.” 

“I obey, senor.” 


102 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


“ Stay, order out a chaise, we can travel more 
quickly that way.” 

“ Are you in a very great hurry ? ” enquired 
the landlord, eyeing me with suspicious surprise. 

“ If I were not in a hurry, I would not desire 
to travel in haste. ” 

“ Again I ask 'your pardon, senor. ” 

Retiring to my room, I soon completed my 
toilet, and descended to the main hall again, 
where I had not waited long when the servant 
maid sent to arouse Madona hastened hack. 

“ Oh, senor,” she cried, with an appearance of 
great concern, though I could see by the look in 
her eye that she suspected an elopement, “ senori- 
ta has disappeared — her room is vacant ! ” 

“What,” I exclaimed,' horrified at the idea, “is 
Madona gone ? ” 

It was true ! No trace remained of the missing 
senorita, and for an hour I rushed about the inn 
questioning everybody, without success. 

Late in the morning, an Indian entered the 
small square before the tavern,with a load of wood. 

Upon enquiring if he seen anything of the ab- 
ducted girl, he told me that a rapidly driven 
carriage had passed him early in the morning, 
while on his way to town. He was not certain, 
but thought that he had seen a woman in the 
vehicle. 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


103 


Waiting for nothing more definite, I sprang into 
my chaise, which was standing before the tavern 
door, and immediately started in pursuit of Ma- 
dona, whom, I felt assured had not departed upon 
her own accord, but was the victim of some bold 
conspiracy. 

Calling to the postillion to make haste, I rolled 
^out of the village, over which the Imperial ban- 
ner still fiuttered in the morning breezes, and was 
soon in the open country, tearing over the rough 
roads at break-neck speed. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Toward evening, we arrived at a point on tlie 
road where a crowd of Indians were gathered a- 
round an overturned coach. 

Hardly daring to hope that I had the good 
fortune of overtaking the vehicle which bore 
Madona away, and that she was near at hand, I' 
asked : 

“ Have you seen anything of a lady, clad in a 
blue gown, rapidly driven in this direction ? ” 

“A lady dressed in blue?” 

“ Yes, my good man,” I answered, turning to 
the speaker, and tossing him a few silver coins, 
— Senor Yarmada having provided me with ample 
funds for the journey. 

“ Did you see her ? Which way did she go ? ” 

“A gentleman, with a lady dressed in blue 
were in this coach when it overturned,” replied 
the Indian. 

“ Where did they go to seek shelter?” 

Overjoyed at the accident which had overtaken 
the abductor, I felt sure of immediately effecting 
Madona’s rescue. 

“ They did not stoj), senor,” I was answered, 

“ they continued their j ourney upon the coach 
horses.” 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


105 


This certainly sounded as though Madona, after 
all was no reluctant prisoner. 

“Jump in here and show us the way they 
went,” I cried, making room for him in the seat 
beside me, and motioning the driver to proceed. 

As we drove away, the silent spectators gave 
a loud, parting yell of good will and encourage- 
ment. 

After driving several miles, and finding no 
traces of the fugitives, I was about to dismiss 
my guide, when the driver suddenly drew up, as 
he exclaimed : 

“Look, senor! Did you see the man look at 
us from the ruins, then quickly draw his head 
out of sight ? ” 

“ I saw him,” declared the guide, fearing that 
he sacrificed his reputation, by negligence. 

Looking in the direction in which my attention 
had been called, I saw a mass of ancient archi- 
tecture in crumbling ruins. From the appearance 
of the place, it could afford scant shelter from 
the elements, and could not have been a habita- 
tion. My first thought was naturally that Ma- 
dona and her abductor were concealed in the 
ruins, which we would have passed unnoticed, 
had her companion controlled his curiosity. 

Jumping from the conveyance, I ran toward the 
place, closely followed by my guide and the 


106 


A PEIVATE MATTEE. 


driver. Upon entering the ruins we conld see 
nothing of the person who had been indulging 
his curiosity, and, as the guide at once qualified 
his assertion, I began to think the- man among 
the ruins was the creation of the vivid imagina- 
of the driver, and a lack of veracity on the part 
of the guide. 

“ You must have been deceived,” I exclaimed 
with disappointment, turning to the driver, “ there 
is no one here ! ” 

A stifled cry, issuing from a pile of rubbish 
in a dark corner of the ruins, just then reached 
my ear, and I hurried in the direction from 
whence the sound escaped. 

The cry was repeated a,s I clambered over the 
heaps of rubbish, behind which I found a small 
opening in the ground, which I took to be a dry 
well, or the entrance to a cellar. 

“ Hello,” I cried, peering down into the dark 
hole, “is there anyone down there?” 

The cry was again repeated, and thoroughly 
convinced that I had found Madona, I sent the 
driver to get the straps on the harness of the 
chaise. He hurried olf and soon returned with 
the straps, with which I lowered myself into the 
mysterious cavity. 

Cautiously descending the rude ladder, I reach- 
ed the bottom, and in groping about in the dark. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


107 


fell across a human form. 

Reaching down to assist the prostrate person, 
my hands came in contract with a mass of soft 
hair. The touch, so magnetic in its influence, told 
me that Madona lay at my feet. 

The joy this discovery gave me obscured all 
thought of her injured condition, and it was not 
until I had carried her to the chaise that I no- 
ticed the cuts and bruises on her face and hands. 

I had no time to lose with her abductor, and 
immediately continued the journey, thankful that 
I had, perhaps, delivered Madona from a terrible 
death in that hole among the ruins. 

As we were driving away, I looked back and 
saw a Mexican, of the mounted provincial police, 
talking to my guide, whom I had left behind me. 
After a few words had passed between them, the 
Mexican spurred his horse and galloped after us. 
Arriving in hailing distance, he shouted to us to 
halt. 

I am ordered to detain you, senor,” said he, 
stopping close to the chaise. 

‘‘You are mistaken, I am not the person you 
seek,” I answered, taking a doubloon from my 
pocket, and slipping it in his hand. 

“ Senor,” exclaimed the Mexican, with a great 
show of indignation, while weighing the coin in 
his hand. 


108 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


Drawing two more doubloons from my pocket, 
I weighed them in my hand, as he was doing. 

For a moment he eyed the money in a shrink- 
ing, suspicious manner, then stretching out his 
thin, yellow palm, he shrugged his shoulders, 
and said : 

“ You are right, senor, I am mistaken.” 

Dropping the gold in his outstretched hand, I 
motioned the driver to proceed. That incorruptible 
gentleman had witnessed the transaction, as one 
who considered it a legitimate bargain, in which 
I had been cheated. 

The contemptuous curl of his lips, as he crack- 
ed his whip, and muttered an inaudible something 
about “ silver,” would have made another feel 
quite crestfallen. 

Glancing toward Madona, I discovered that she 
. had recovered from unconsciousness, and was look- 
ing around her in a confused, bewildered manner. 

Seeing me she shrank away to the other side 
of the chaise, as though uncertain whether I was 
a protector, or a persecutor. 

“ You are safe, dear,” I whispered tenderly, “ it 
is I, Carlos.” 

Re-assured by my words and manner, she ask- 
ed faintly : 

“ How came you to find me ? ” 

“ I have been following you all day, and at last 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


109 


traced yon to those ruins, where you were con- 
cealed,” I answered, nodding toward the ancient 
building, which was fast disappearing in the haze 
of distance. 

Then taking her hand, I asked : 

How was you taken from the inn, last night? 
Who was your abductor ? ” 

“ Late last night some one entered my room, 
which I had unguardedly left unfastened, and ad- 
ministered chloroform to me. The next thing I 
remember was being in a damp, vault-like place. 
I screamed for assistance, then became uncon- 
scious again.” 

‘‘Whom do you suspect?” 

“ Major Victoria ! ” 

“Well, Madona, I can tell you the rest. Major 
Victoria was murdered while wandering around 
the tavern in the dark, last night. In his hand, 
a little card marked, ‘ the untrue,’ suggested that 
he had been untrue to his fellow-conspirators, 
and they had taken his life.’’ 

“A terrible vengeance, but it was just,” return- 
ed Madona, her eyes glowing with gratification. 
What a strange woman she was ! One to fear, 
or to love. 

“ You cannot conceive how terrible my emotion 
was when I found you gone. I was at most fran- 
tic,” I exclaimed, putting my arm around her 


110 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


slender waist and drawing her to me. 

“ Hush, Carlos,” she gently replied, “ you may 
say something that you will regret.” 

“ Never, never,” I passionately cried. 

I would have continued, had I not glanced to- 
ward the driver and found him struggling to keep 
his head in the proper direction, while a broad 
grin overspread his face, and he seemed to take 
a keen interest in the progress of the love affair. 

Pressing her passive hand, I relapsed into si- 
lence — a period of pain to me, one of rest to 
Madona. 

From that time on the journey became tedious 
and monotonous. By degrees, we arrived in sight 
of the Capital, and rolled across its streets. 

“Where shall I take you, senorita,” I asked, 
as we neared the city. 

“ To my aunt. Dona Vermodi, Calle del Venosa,” 
she answered. 

The residence of her aunt was a large mansion, 
built close to the street, like all Mexican city 
houses, and towering as high above the ground 
as the means of the builder would allow. 

Stopping in front of this mansion, I assisted 
Madona to alight and accompanied her to the 
door, where she was cordially received by an 
elderly woman, clad in a flaming scarlet silk 
gown. 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


Ill 


After the first affectionate greetings were ex- 
changed, I was introduced to Dona Yermodi, who 
swept me a stately courtesy, and coldly passed 
into the house without uttering a word. 

beg senor to accept my gratitude for his 
kindness to me,” said Madona, as, bowing coldly 
she followed her aunt. 

Being left alone, I was somewhat mortified at 
the shabby treatment I had received, but attribut- 
ing it to the customs of the country, I sprang in- 
to the chaise and drove off. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


“Captain Benjamin, from Vera Cruz!” 

As the aid-de-camp called my name, I passed 
through the ante-chamher leading into the pri- 
vate cabinet of General Guerrero, and entered 
the presence of the great revolutionary chief, 
who was sitting at a desk, busily engaged sort- 
ing a mass of papers before him. 

His modest deportment and unostentatious dress, 
so uncommon among Mexican soldiers, contrasted 
little with the furniture of the room, which was 
plain and simple. 

I gazed wonderingly upon the man whom I 
had learned to look upon as almost perfect. 

He could not have been more than forty years 
old, yet his care worn countenance and stooping 
shoulders were evidences of premature old age. 

“ I understand you have despatches for me 
from Vera Cruz, captain,” he said, rising as I 
entered. 

“ No, senor,” was my reply, “ I have no dis- 
patches. I come to announce that General Santa 
Anna has declared his disaffection, and has raised 
the flag of the republic over the walls of Vera 
Cruz ! ” 

“ Thank God ! ” fervently cried the patriot, “ I 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


113 


knew it would come to that ! Did Santa Anna 
send you to inform me of the revolution ? ” 

“No, senor,” I answered, seeing his expression 
turn from joy to stern displeasure as I spoke, “I 
came as an officer under the Emperor Augustine, 
not as a traitor to assist in the overthrow of a 
government, which I had sworn to maintain.” 

“ Young man,” came the harsh response, “there 
is no treachery in striking for liberty and the 
welfare of the people.” 

“ Senor,” I replied boldly, “ the people enjoy as 
much liberty now as under a republic. You 
know that under a republican government in 
Mexico, the people only exchange an aristocratic 
master for a series of plebian tyrants ! ” 

“ Come, you have said enough. I will take you 
to Iturbide. You can tell him all you know, as 
I no longer fear his power to combat the revolu- 
tionary forces.” 

“ Then you will let me warn the Emperor of 
his ” 

“ Impending doom,” finished the general, hast- 
ily, “Iturbide cannot struggle against republi- 
cans. Let him slay as many royalists as he 
chooses, but if he dares to send his troops 
against a body of patriots the whole nation would 
uprise against him!” 

By this time, we had reached the Calle San 
8 


114 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


Francisco, and approached Itnrbide’s palace, — a 
large, profusely decorated building, opening di- 
rectly upon the street. 

After being announced, we waited until the 
Imperial plebian condesended to admit the noble 
republican, who had, through disinterested pat- 
riotism, placed in his hands the power which he 
had used so selfishly. 

“ Iturbide never treated me thus when we were 
colonels together,” exclaimed Guerrero, with great 
bitterness, as we waited in the ante-chamber. 

“ General Guerrero,” called an aid-de-camp, as 
a narrow pair of folding doors were thrown open. 

Answering the summons, we followed the officer 
through the doorway, into a large room, draped 
in curtains of crimson velvet, drawn back by yel- 
low silk ribbons, so as to display the large mir- 
ror panels of the walls. 

At the end of this apartment was a dias and 
throne, on which the Emperor sat, looking about 
him with evident satisfaction. 

A courtier, leaving him as we entered, presented 
an amusing figure as lie backed the full length 
of the room, going through a series of gymnas- 
tics, at the same time, bordering upon the ridicu- 
lous. 

As soon as Iturbide saw General Guerrero, he 
descended from the throne, and approached us. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


115 


^^Ah, Greneral,” he exclaimed, ‘^what has brought 
you on this unusual visit?” 

‘‘This young officer desires to speak to you,” 
answered Guerrero, ignoring the Emperor’s cor- 
diality when he has told you all he knows, 
you will look upon the future in a different light.” 

“ What have you to divulge, senor,” questioned 
Iturbide, in a calm tone of voice. “ It must be 
something momentus if it concerns the future 
destiny of a monarch, — speak ! ” 

I then explained Santa Anna’s disaffection. 

Iturbide listened attentively throughout the re- 
cital, and when I had concluded, turned to Gen- 
eral Guerrero. 

“ Guerrero,” he said, without visable emotion, 
“ what do you think of this ? ” 

“Your crown is in jeopardy!” 

“ It is true,” assented the Emperor sadly. “ I 
have no friends to support my crumbling cause. 
The men who, a few days ago, vowed their eter- 
nal fidelity to me, after receiving all that I could 
bestow, now leave me, when they find my treas- 
ury empty and mj power waning.” 

“ What you say is true of many,” answered 
Guerrero, deeply affected, “ but it does not apply 
to the old revolutionary generals, who declined 
to recognize you as Emperor. Don Augustine 
Iturbide — I might say Colonel Iturbide, yet I hesi- 


116 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


tate to trample upon a fallen monarch — when 
you reproach me for infidelity, for I suppose the 
reproach was meant for me, do not forget the 
concessions I have made to you in the past, and 
do not forget that I opposed your ambition — I 
protested against the creation of an empire. I 
will join the republicans to oppose, to overthrow 
your authority. Beware how you struggle against 
us!” 

“You mistake my meaning, Guerrero. It would 
be impossible to construe thy blunt manners in- 
to fawning courtesy. When I refer to the faith- 
less, I cannot refer to those who have never made 
pledges of constancy.” 

“ Your highness,” said I, feeling a deep sym- 
pathy for the fallen monarch, “ I, though an hum- 
ble captain, will follow your cause to success or 
annihilation!” 

“ The devotion of one man, though gratifying 
to me, cannot envigor my hopeless cause, ’’answer- 
ed Augustine, looking at me with the cold, pene- 
trating glance of one who places little value in 
such declarations, “ when I am deposed, you will 
forget me and ride under the flag now waving 
above Vera Cruz, — they all do that!” 

“ I have sheathed my sword, and no voice save 
thine can again command me draw,” I replied, so 
earnestly that the Emperor was moved. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


117 


“ There may be a time when I will need you, 
’till then, farewell ! ” 

Detaching a small gold medal from his coat, 
he placed it on my breast, then turned to address 
one of the members of his suite standing a few 
paces behind him. 

As we were leaving the palace. General Guer- 
rero turned a displeased countenance toward me 
and asked : 

‘‘You do not actually intend to resign your 
commission, do you ? ” 

“ I have promised the emperor to do so, and I 
will never belie my word of honor,” I firmly 
replied. 

“You made the promise in the heat of excite- 
ment,” returned the general, “ consider the matter 
thoroughly before acting. You did some brilliant 
work in storming the hacienda and your promo- 
tion will be rapid if you remain in the army. I 
will see that General Santa Anna does not remem- 
ber your late truant behavior. ” 

“Thank you, general, I will do as you advise 
and consider the matter.” 

Leaving General Guerrero, I returned to my 
quarters, when I attempted to consider what 
course to pursue. 

God, how many counter emotions struggled for 
the mastery ! I had not decided what I should 


118 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


do, when "by thoughts, in a strangely natural man-, 
ner, turned to Madona, and my prospects in that 
direction. 


CHAPTER XV. 


After I had been in the capital for more than 
a month, I had caught no more than a passing 
glimpse of Madona and her aunt, as they drove 
by me in an open carriage, one afternoon, as I 
was lounging on the plaza. She did not seem to 
see me. 

The only token of remembrance I received from 
her during all this time, was an invitation to a 
ball, given at the residence of her aunt. I was 
surprised at this ungrateful coldness, but com- 
forted myself with the hope that it was coquet- 
tish shyness on her part. I had called several 
times to see her, but after sending in my card 
was uniformly informed that Senorita Vermodi 
was not at home. 

“To the ball, then,” thought I, “and demand 
an explanation ! ” 

The music had just ceased, and the dancers 
were seating themselves, as I entered the ball- 
room. 

Wandering through the crowd of gayly dressed 
men and women, I looked eagerly about for Ma- 
dona. 

She was standing beside her portly aunt, as I 
approached. She made an effort to pass me over 


120 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


a few careless remarks, but I offered my arm and- 
walked to a balcony, looking out on a small 
flower garden at the side of the house. Grlancing 
back at the window as we passed out she re- 
marked : 

“This would suit Romeo and Juliet perfectly. 
Here there is no cause for complaint against the 
iron-barred windows of Mexico ! ” 

I looked at her graceful form, clad in a gown 
of peculiarly soft, clinging texture, and the proud 
head, about which the dark locks were coiled. 
A bunch of roses was fastened in her hair form- 
ing a bewitching contrast to her brunette charms. 

I was intensely agitated. Madona carelessly 
fanned herself, and leaned over the balustrade 
to look down into the garden, displaying a grace 
by the action, that no other woman possessed, I 
imagined. 

But everyone thinks the woman he loves the 
fairest of all femininity ! Could such a lovely 
creature entertain any thoughts of me ? Alas, no ! 

“I do not complain of the iron-barred windows, 
but of the ladies They are too coy. Oh, Mado- 
na, you know my love for you ! Tell me, do I 
hope in vain ? 

“Ah, senor,” she returned, the cool smile fading 
from her lips, “this is sudden, — this is indeed a 
mistake — we are scarcely acquainted ! ” 


A PEIVATE MATTEK. 


121 


‘‘Have you forgotten the journey from Vera 
Cruz so soon?” I cried, carried away by the 
fervor of my emotion. “ Do you know that I 
threw away a future for you without thinking 
it a sacrifice ? Ah, what a return for pure, un- 
selfish love ! ” 

“Hush, Carlos, do not talk so loud. You may 
be overheard,” she whispered, placing a small, 
white hand on my arm. 

“ I care nothing for the people here,” I answer- 
ed, wildly; “all I want is you and — Madona hear 
me ! ” 

She drew herself up scornfully as she asked : 
“Ah, senor, have you forgotten the little lass at 
the inn, who loved you so dearly ? Return to 
her — I am unworthy of you.” 

“ Madona,” I urged, earnestly, “ it is wrong for 
you to treat me thus, — you wound me deeply.” 

“ Poor Carlos,” she answered sadly, almost with 
regret, “ we might have been happy together, but 
I cannot, — cannot be more than a friend to you 
now. Do not be angry, I did not mean to pain 
you so — farewell.” 

I had no time to answer her. Quickly turning 
from me, she hurried away. 

Amazed by her strange words, I stood for a 
moment staring blankly after her ; then remem- 
bering my situation, I resolved to see her once 


122 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


more before I despaired. I determined to know 
why could she be no more to me than a friend. 

Again I saw Madona alone, her companion 
having left on some trifling errand she had im- 
posed upon him. 

“ Madona,” I said, approaching her, “ why do 
you treat me in this way? You have lead me to 
believe that you care something for me, — now, 
why should I — love in vain?” 

“ I had hoped our last conversation would ter- 
minate our acquaintance,” she answered, blushing 
with vexation, “but you insist, — ah, senor, you 
have returned at last ! ” 

As her companion approached, she turned a 
firm, cold face to me and added : 

“ Let me present General Oastelor, my husband, 
Captain Grey.” 

Bowing low, I saluted her husband, — Madona’ s 
husband, — and without displaying any of the 
emotions rankling within me, I left the room. 

Turning at the doorway to take a last look at 
Madona, I saw her dancing with her husband 
and laughing merrily at something he was tell- 
ing her. 

Angry at the way she had forgotten me, and 
chagrined at my failure to win her, I hurried 
from the house. 

The cold atmosphere of the streets relieved my 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


123 


heated brain, and I was able to think. 

Blighted hopes, a blank future were all that 
my mind could depict, and I mentally wandered 
through the ruins of the castle I had built dur- 
ing the brief space allowed me. 

Every word, smile and gesture was recalled vi- 
vidly to my memory, and I was surprised to see 
the weakness of the foundation on which I had 
rested such an immense structure of romance ! 

Becoming impatient upon recalling the con- 
temptible part I had played, I exclaimed : 

She is an icy-hearted woman, despising such 
a dupe, driveller, idiot that I am ! She is un- 
worthy of me. Why should I concern myself 
about her?’’ 

Yet I did concern myself about her, and re- 
signed my commission in the army, fully be- 
lieving that life to me was in the past, and that 
there was no future for me. 

My dull, unhappy existence was not relieved 
by having friends to draw me away from the 
brooding gloom into which I had fallen, and I 
lived, with myself, in the past. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Three months passed, and the dark cloud, 
which hung over my life, was clearing. 

At nights, when I retired to bed, I would dream 
of Nama and her winning smile. 

“It is nothing,” thought I, “I care nothing for 
Kama. True, she is pretty, hut what of that ? I 
do not love every good-looking girl I meet ! ” 

As I roamed the plaza in the evening, the image 
of Nama danced before me. 

As I watched the crowd of gaily dressed men 
and women stroll by, I could see Nama’s bewitch- 
ing black eyes flashing at me from behind every 
mantilla. 

I thought that I was growing mad, and went 
to the gambling saloons to forget the vision in 
excitement, but all to no purpose. 

Every card I drew was a miniature of the little 
tavern girl 

A ruined gambler shot himself while I was 
there, and in the care-worn, hopeless face I saw 
the image of Nama ! 

The barbarous cruelties of the bull fight were 
inadequate to alloy the desire to see Nama, to 
repress her vision, constantly dancing before my 
eyes. In the form of every picadore, riding a dis- 


A PRIYATP] MATTER. 


126 


embowled horse, I could trace the rounded out- 
lines of the little waitress. 

Impatient, weary, I would throw myself across 
the bed, only to dream of her. I had almost 
forgotten Madona, her stately form and queenly 
charms, and my heart became light and bouyant 
once more. 

At last I determined to return to Vera Cruz! 

One morning, after I had decided to return to 
Vera Cruz, to satisfy my longing to see Nama, 
a servant entered the room with my mail. 

As time passed, letters from the states ” be- 
came less frequent, and my delight upon hearing 
from home increased proportionately. 

Breaking the seal of the solitary letter, I eager- 
ly perused its contents, and learned that my 
father, the terror of my childhood, the tyrant of 
my boyhood, and the stern parent of my youth 
was dead. He had died several months previous, 
but owing to the slowness and irregularity of the 
mail service, I was not made acquainted with the 
fact until then, although the date upon the let- 
ter indicated that there had been no delay in 
notifying me of the sad event. I say sad, be- 
cause even I could shed a tear for that loveless 
old man. 

How dark his life must have been ! Cold and 
stern, be repelled friendship, and even his child- 


126 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


ren feared to evince affection for him. No one 
understood him! Howr could they? 

By my parent’s death, I inherited a part of 
the large estate he left, and my sudden accession 
to fortune again made me uncertain whether I 
should return to Virginia, or Vera Cruz. 

“ I cannot leave Mexico without seeing Nama 
once more,” I exclaimed, as I sprang from the 
hed, “ I must see her, or go mad I ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


‘‘All in, senors ! ” 

A hurrying of feet, laughter, cries and oaths 
followed these words, pronounced in a loud voice 
by the guard on the morning mail coach for Vera 
Cruz, and indicated that the vehicle was on the 
point of leaving, or that it might leave at any 
moment during the next two hours. 

At intervals of every half hour, the guard 
would shout, “All in, senors,” to keep up an in- 
terest among the passengers, and’ it never failed 
to produce the desired effect, as each call might 
prove the last. 

After answering the summons several times, I 
curled myself comfortably in a corner of the 
coach, intending to steal a nap before we started. 

When the guard saw that I did not care wheth- 
er we moved, or stood still, though preferring the 
latter condition at the time, he gave the signal 
for departure, and after a final and vociferous. 
“ All in,” we rolled out of the city. 

Jolting over the rough road, we made the first 
day’s journey. Toward noon, on the second day. 
as we were passing through a dense thicket of 
chapparel, the coach came to a sudden stand- 
still. A loud scream was raised among the 


128 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


female portion of tlie passengers, while the men 
stupidly sat still and whispered to each other : 

“ It is the banditti ! ” 

“ If a gang of thieves have stopped the dili- 
gence,” I exclaimed, springing to my feet, “there 
are enough men here to oppose them ! ” 

“ Senor will please take his seat,” said a calm 
voice at the window. 

Grlancing in that direction, I saw a neat look- 
ing Spaniard standing there, emphasising his re- 
quest with a cocked pistol in his hand. I seated 
myself with alacrity, not caring to ascertain if 
the' weapon were loaded. 

“ If you will not be incommoded,” said the 
gentlemanly highwayman, “ I would be pleased 
to see you on the outside, senors.” 

• My fellow travellers promptly obeyed the sum- 
mons, and ranged themselves in line along the 
road, to accommodate the robbers, as though ex- 
perienced in dealing with bandits, and anxious 
to get through the business as quickly as possi- 
ble. Seven plainly dressed men stood on the 
outside, to receive us. They wore no masks and 
would look like unpretentious farmers, had it not 
been for the belt of arms they wore. 

When they had finished rifling our pockets, a 
guard was detailed to watch us, while the others 
tore open the mail sacks, and express boxes, and 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


129 


appropriated that portion of the contents which 
pleased them, or was of any value. 

After looking through the mail, they replaced 
the open letters in the sacks, and bidding us an 
affectionate farewell, told the driver that he might 
proceed. 

For some time after the robbery, an embar- 
rassed silence oppressed the travellers. There was 
not a man in the coach who felt like looking his 
neighbor in the eyes. 

We travelled in this manner for a few miles, 
when, in entering the out-skirts of a small village, 
we passed a gibbet from which the bodies of 
three criminals were dangling. 

“They must be the remains of highwaymen,” 
said a little man, sitting in a conspicious posi- 
tion near the center of the coach. 

The words were no sooner uttered than a loud 
cheer arose from my fellow passengers, who noisi- 
ly evinced their approval of the idea, and fer- 
vently consigned the bandits we had just parted 
company with to the same fate. 

Then succeeded hand- shaking and congratula- 
tions, which effectually dispelled the gloom, and 
broke the silence. 

As we rumbled over the streets of Vera Cruz, 
my impatience to see Nama became alarming in 
its manifestations. 


130 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


My excitement showed itself in many strange 
ways. My companions watched me with wonder, 
not unmixed with fear, as I would spring to the 
window, peer out, then rap at the pane, and re- 
turn to my seat. 

At last, greatly to the relief of my fellow 
travellers, and to my own, we arrived at the Im- 
perial tavern, where I alighted. 

Knocking loudly on the door, I demanded ad- 
mittance. 

After repeating the knock several times, I saw 
a light glimmer under the door, and heard the 
slip-shod tread of some one approaching to give 
me audience. 

I forgot that everybody I knew in Vera Cruz 
thought me ’dead, and composedly awaited the 
opening of the door, as though I had been ex- 
pected back. 

“Who’s there ? ” demanded a female voice, 
which I recognized to be that of flame Isabella. 

“ It is I — Captain Benjamin ?” was my loud 
response, hoping to attract Kama’s attention as 
she usually lurked near the door when it was 
opened to satisfy her curiosity as to the visitor. 

The heavy bolts were slowly drawn aside, and 
the door was partly opened. 

The gray head of the old woman, made hideous 
by a hateful grin, was thrust through the opening. 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


131 


‘‘Oh, captain, it’s you come, is it? ” she exclaim- 
ed, harshly. 

“Yes, it is I,” was my response, “can I — can 
I get my bed-room back again ? ” 

“No,” she answered, bursting into a rage, “not 
here ! we are attending to the work you left us, 
and have no time to do more.” 

“ I do not understand you, woman,” I returned, 
burning with impatience, “explain yourself! Let 
me see Nama first, I have returned to her.” 

“ You have come back to see the little girl,” 
shrieked the hag, laughly hoarsely and tossing 
her thin arms wildly about her head. “Gro 
away, senor, go away. Do not look upon the de- 
struction you have worked. You are late — too 
late! Nama will never see you more ! ” 

“ Great God,” I cried, in the excess of my 
anguish, “tell me, woman, tell me, is she dead?” 

“Worse, much worse,” was the terrible answer, 
“ come and see ! ” 

I followed her into the house and up the stair- 
way I had climbed so often before, passing fa- 
miliar objects at every turn. 

‘* Do you want to see Nama,” whispered the 
old woman turning to me, as she Stopped before 
the door of my former apartment. 

“Yes,” I muttered, holding my breath in anti- 
cipation of some awful disclosure. 


132 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


Thrusting the key in the lock, she threw open 
the door. 

I dared not enter, a feeling of dreadful fore- 
boding held me back. 

“ Ha, senor,” exclaimed Dame Isabella, “ you are 
not afraid so soon ! What will you do when you 
know all ? ” 

Roused by her words, I stepped into the room, 
and by the light of the candle she held in her 
hand, I could see the room just as I had left it. 

No, not as I had left it! 

In one corner crouched a dark, little form, 
chattering to itself. 

As the rays of light fell upon it, the figure 
sprang to its feet and rushed at us. 

It was Nama — mad! 

“You shall not,” she cried, striking fiercely at 
the intruders, “he is mine — you shall not take 
him from me ! ” 

Then forgetting the cause of her rage, she be- 
gan to sing an old Spanish love ditty. 

Speechless with horror, I looked at Nama, and 
thought with a sinking heart, that I had been 
the cause of her madness. 

The unrepressed tears trickled down my cheeks, 
and the agony I felt I did not think nor care to 
conceal. 

“We have suffered,” muttered the old woman. 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


133 


with an appearance of grim pleasure, “why should 
he not do so — it is just!” 

“ Nama, oh, Nama,” I cried, passionately, hop- 
ing sufficient reason remained for her to recog- 
nize me, “ it is 1 — Carlos has returned.” 

The dolorous song continued. I staggered to- 
ward the door. 

“It is enough,” I cried, in deep despair, “let 
me go ! ” 

As the door closed behind me, I could still hear 
the mirthless singer, and I lied down the stair- 
way to escape the torture which her shrill, ex- 
pressionless voice inflicted. 

“Beware of Juan,” whispered Dame Isabella, 
as I left the house. 

Regardless of her words, I rushed into the 
streets, not knowing whither, but away ! 

“Hold, senor” cried a voice, near me, “a word 
with you 1 ” 

“ I have no time to bandy words,” I answered, 
not stopping for a moment. 

“ Hold, dastard,” repeated the man, placing 
himself directly in my way, “ do you fear to 
face me ? ” 

“I do not know you,” I replied, attempting 
to pass him, “why should I fear a stranger?” 

“Have you forgotten Juan Tarf, Kama’s broth- 
er,” hissed the Mexican. 


134 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


“Is it you, Juan? I have just returned from 
— from the inn and have learned all. It is ter- 
rible ! ” 

“ Yes, it is all your work and you must an- 
swer to me for it ! Are you armed ? ” 

“ I will have no quarrel with you — I could 
not strike Kama’s brother!” 

“ Then if you are too cowardly to fight, die in 
the gutter as a dog ! ” 

The infuriated man had drawn his stilletto, 
and advanced toward me. 

“Villianous Mexican,” I replied, enraged at 
his words, “had you followed the dictates of 
your cowardly nature, you would have stabbed 
me in the back ! ” 

Drawing my knife, for I had learned to carry 
one while in Mexico, I faced my antagonist. 

No one, save those who have passed through 
such a contest, can realize its horror. 

Standing facing each other waiting an oppor- 
tunity — a sudden spring forward, a short strug- 
gle and a stagger back, then all is over ! 

For some time I stood facing the Mexican in 
watchful suspense, expecting to feel the cold 
blade of his poniard in my breast at every mo- 
ment. 

He made a sudden attack, and we grappled. 
Raising my dagger, I struck him a blow in the 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


135 


side. The knife dropped from his hand, and 
without a sound, Juan fell prostrate at my feet. 

No one saw the encounter save Dame Isabella, 
who made no outcry, and did not interpose. Not 
daring to look at the unfortunate young man, 
and dreading to look back, I hurried away. 

That night I could not sleep, and paced the 
floor of the room I had engaged at one of the 
larger taverns, thinking of the brother and sister 
whose lives I had blighted. Nama’s voice rang in 
my ear all night, and my imagination conjured 
up a vision of Juan, covered with the blood flow- 
ing from the wound I had inflicted. 

Every noise that reached my ears I interpreted 
as the police approaching to arrest me for my 
crime. 

At last, worn out by the ceasless strain, I threw 
myself across the bed and fell asleep. 

My slumber was disturbed by frightful dreams 
and when I awoke my mind was almost deranged. 

Morning came at last and I hurried back to 
Nama. 

Dame Isabella met me at the door, her eyes 
red with weeping. Upon asking to see Nama, 
she informed me that the physicians were in the 
room, which was open, then turned her head away 
from me, as though she could not bear the sight 
of my face. 


136 


A PRIVATE MATTER. 


“Both gone,” I heard her say, as I was going 
np the steps, “ and he is the cause of it all — 
Santa Maria ! ” 

A crowd of Mexican physicians were assem- 
bled in the room. 

Nama lay on the bed, terribly burned. Her 
long black curls were scorched and charred, and 
her beautiful face was black and disfigured. 

A lighted candle had been left in her room 
and the acccident resulted. 

As I entered, the physicians turned a gaze of 
abhorence upon me,, as one of them said, in an 
under tone : 

“ It is he ! ” 

As I looked at the ghastly object upon the bed, 
the only sign of remaining animation was an 
occassional gasp, when she would roll her sight- 
less eyes and moan piteously. 

Even after afflicting her until the mind could 
endure no more anguish, stern fate had infiicted 
physical suffering that the wretched girl might 
drain to the dregs her cup of woe ! 

As I watched her, the signs of remaining ani- 
mation became less frequent, as time passed, un- 
til they ceased altogether. 

Fervently I prayed that she might be restored 
to me, but my selfish prayer was not heard, and 
Nama, becoming weaker every moment, was finally 


A PKIVATE MATTER. 


137 


called to Grod. 

Yes, I bent over that gasping form and saw 
life slowly leave tbe body — slowly, that I might 
feel the increased pain of seeing hope and joy 
ebb with each dying breath. 

“ She is dead,” at last, said one of the physi- 
cians, bending over the stiffening form. 

I had come to Kama’s bed-side, with the stain 
of her brother’s death upon my soul, only to see 
her die. 

Life to me has passed ! I had lived my part 
through. Youthful ambition no longer buoyed 
my sinking heart and life’s gloom closed about 
me. 

I followed Kama’s little coffin to the grave and 
returned — an old man. 


I afterward heard of Madona and learned that 
she was very happy with her husband. They 
resided in the city of Mexico for several years, 
then visited Spain and, upon returning to Mexi- 
co, made their home near Vera Cruz. It is a 
beautiful place, with a grand view of the city 
and surrounding country, and is situated in a 
park that equals in age, an,d beauty, any that 
can be found in Europe. Where her home is sit- 


138 


A PEIVATE MATTER. 


uated once stood an Aztec palace. Her husband 
is very rich, and Madona is now the mother of 
several children. All this information interests 
me greatly, for I rejoice to know that the proud 
woman is happy even though she did cause me 
such terrible misery. Perhaps, she thinks of me, 
sometimes; at least, she should remember the man, 
who gave up more than life for her sake. 

THE END. 


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